


unus et solus [editing]

by rememberingsunday



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band), Cobra Starship, Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Addiction, Depression, F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi, NaNoWriMo, Soul Mate AU, Suicide, drug overdose, tw: abuse, tw: cocaine, under age
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-02
Updated: 2016-01-13
Packaged: 2018-03-28 18:22:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 9
Words: 52,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3865024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rememberingsunday/pseuds/rememberingsunday
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Kate, what are you watching?” Her father comes into the room, glancing at the TV. “Oh. Turn that off.”<br/>“Why?” She asks.<br/>Her father’s nose wrinkles. “Three people can’t be in a relationship, Kit Kat. It’s abnormal. I only love your mother. I can’t see why Victoria Asher just doesn’t choose one. Save them all some pain.”</p><p> </p><p>(or, the one where there's too much prejudice & kate never thought it'd happen to her)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> im sorry i only have like 2 names i use for ocs , these are 100% different characters from red and the traveling music geeks, srry :\

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IMPORTANT:  
> THIS IS UNDER EDITING.  
> I HAVE ADDED ABOUT 20K WORDS IN NEW SCENES

Kate is six.  
“Any day now,” her mother says, flipping through the newspaper lying on their kitchen table.  
“What color will it be?” Kate asks, even though she already knows the answer. She’s asked this question about a million times, but she wants to hear it again.  
Her mother sighs. “I’ve already told you. It’s the color of your soulmate’s eyes. It’ll change, though, sometimes. Some people’s eyes are like that.”  
Kate leans forward on to the table. “When will I get it?”  
Her mother sighs again, but she smiles at her daughter. “Soon. We’ve already talked about this a hundred times, Kat, can’t we talk about something else?”  
Except, not really, because Kate is so excited for her letter to arrive. It’s incredibly important and serious to her, even though she sees how her parents exchange amusing looks when she talks about it. Her best friend, Katie, already has the first letter of her name, the delicate ‘s’ curling across her wrist in a pretty sky blue. She’s so jealous, she could explode. She wants to know what her soulmate’s name is.  
Though it’s hidden by her sleeve, she knows that on her mother’s skin the letters “jonathon” across her skin in a blue green that Kate knows matches the color of her father’s eyes exactly.  
She just can’t wait for the tingling sensation she knows she’ll get when it happens, and to see the first letter of the person’s name she’ll be spending forever with, there on her body forever. It’s like a rite of passage - when this happens, she’ll be at the beginning of growing up, and she can’t wait.

 

About three weeks later, it happens.  
Kate isn’t even doing anything special, just sitting on her bed with a coloring book her mother gave her. It’s early evening outside, the sun just starting to set, and she’s picking up a blue crayon when her wrist starts to tingle, as if it had fallen asleep. It isn’t unpleasant.  
She drops her crayon and shoves the sleeve of her shirt up, staring at the skin on her wrist. As she watches, a faint glow emanates from her, a kind of golden glimmer and a dark, chocolate brown “r” appears on her skin.  
She starts smiling so hard her face hurts, and stares at it. It’s a pretty color, even though she hadn’t considered brown to be a good eye color until right then. Quickly, she jumps off her bad and runs down the stairs to where her mother and father are sitting on the couch, watching television.  
“Hey, Kit Kat,” her father smiles. “What’s up?”  
She clambers onto the couch and holds out her wrist proudly, showcasing the pretty letter on her wrist.  
“I wonder what his name is,” her mother says, smiling at her.  
“Ross,” her father starts. “Rhys. Robert.”  
“Reynold,” her mother says. “Ryan. Ronald.”  
Kate doesn’t even hear “Ronald”, because as soon as the letters of “Ryan” disappear into the air, she feels something shift. Like maybe that name has something important to it.  
“Ryan,” she says. The letters feel like they are making a home in her mouth. Like maybe she could repeat that name for the rest of her life.  
“Yeah, maybe,” her father says, but she ignores him, too busy thinking about that name. Not a name she’s heard before, but still a name that makes her feel all warm.  
Ryan.

The day Kate turns eight, there is the first reporting of someone with two soul mates.  
On the TV, there’s a girl with black hair and the brightest blue eyes Kate has ever seen. She imagines what her name looks like on her soul mates’ wrists. Probably beautiful.  
They show a close up of her face. She has exactly nine freckles on her nose and her lips are a pretty pink. Kate thinks she’s beautiful, probably the most beautiful girl she’s ever seen.  
She holds up her wrists. The reporter is saying something but the TV is muted so Kate doesn’t know what it is. On the girl’s right wrist, in a light blue green, is the name “Greta”. On the other wrist, in a brown so dark it’s almost black, says the words “Gabriel”. It makes Kate’s eyes widen - even she knows that that doesn’t happen. There’s only supposed to be one name, on your left wrist. Not two.  
This interesting developement makes Kate find the remote and unmute the TV, just in time to hear the girl say her name.  
“- Victoria Asher.”  
The reporter holds a microphone to the girl’s – Victoria Asher’s – lips. “How does it feel, to know there’s two people for you?”  
Victoria looks a little uncomfortable. Kate doesn’t think she’d like being interviewed like that, either. “It’s like… I don’t know.”  
“Couldn’t you just choose one of them?”  
What a stupid question, Kate thinks scornfully. Obviously not. No one’s asking that reporter if he’d give up his soulmate.  
Victoria shakes her head. “No, definitely not. It’s like… I need both of them. Without them, I feel incomplete. Without Greta, I feel like I’m missing half myself. Without Gabe, I feel like someone’s chopped off my right arm. With both of them, it’s like… I feel full. Happy. Alive.”  
“Kate, what are you watching?” Her father comes into the room, glancing at the TV, and interrupting her rapt attention. “Oh. Turn that off.”  
“Why?” She asks.  
Her father’s nose wrinkles. “Three people can’t be in a relationship, Kit Kat. It’s abnormal. I only love your mother. I can’t see why Victoria Asher just doesn’t choose one. Save them all some pain.”  
Before the screen goes black, Kate catches one last glance of Victoria Asher’s face. Next to her, now, is a boy with dark hair and tan skin, with eyes so dark they’re almost black. Next to him is a girl with curly blonde hair and dimples.  
But it’s not them that really strikes Kate. It’s the way Victoria is looking at them – like her whole world has shrunk down to two people and that the universe could end and civilization could fall apart but Victoria wouldn’t care, as long as she has those two people next to her. Just like her mother looks at her father, only times two.  
She definitely can’t choose, Kate thinks. But he doesn’t tell her father that. He probably wouldn’t understand.

There’s several websites dedicated to stories about soul mates who had trouble finding each other, or had crisises, and after about an hour of searching, she finds a story about someone with two. Soul mates, that is.  
It’s hard to explain, the author writes. His name is Louis. You love them both equally. They’re both the most beautiful people you’ve ever known. And you need them both, definitely. I couldn’t live with just one of them. It’d be impossible. Eleanor understands me in ways I never thought another person could, and Harry makes me see things in ways I never would have. Falling asleep between them every night is the only place I’ve ever felt like I belonged.  
Reading about how Louis feels makes Kate smile. It’s nice to think about someone feeling that way about her.  
Of course, Louis continues. I’ve had people tell me I’m selfish, that it’s wrong. That if everyone else only needs one person, why do I need two? And I can’t even begin to understand what makes people think that. I didn’t choose to have two soul mates, but I wouldn’t change it for the world.  
Kate closes the tab and stands up. She doesn’t quite understand what her parents (perhaps just her father?) have against people with two soul mates. You can’t help what name appears on your wrist, or how many names. She knows this for sure - she had no idea what it’d say when the letters appeared on her wrist.  
She clears the history though, because even though she’s only eleven, she kind of understands that her parents shouldn’t see she was reading this.

 

When Kate is fifteen, she meets a girl.  
Well, she’s known a lot of girls. But this one… this one is special.  
Her name is Geordie. She has long hair that is somehow the color of coffee and red at the same time. It smells like kiwis. Her eyes are gray like steel, like rain clouds. She’s eighteen, and Kate might be a little in love.  
“Hi, my sophomore,” Geordie says to Kate, sitting down next to hr on the concrete steps. Geordie always calls Kate that – it doesn’t bother her. Geordie never says it meanly. And she likes how she says “my.” Like she belongs to Geordie. Like Geordie is hers.  
“Hi,” Kate says, smiling up at her. Geordie is probably about 5’9 and Kate is only 5’4 and whenever she’s near the older girl, she feels safe.  
“So,” Geordie begins as they walk. “Have you ever smoked a cigarette?”  
Kate shakes her head. “I don’t want to get addicted.”  
Geordie raises an eyebrow at her. “What makes you think you would? One couldn’t hurt.”  
“My parents say I have an addictive personality. They say I should be careful of anything like that because it’ll start out as just one, but then it’ll spiral out of control.”  
Geordie snorts. “Fucking parents. Don’t worry, Kate. You’ll be fine. I’ll look after you.”  
Kate feels all warm and focuses on the ground so Geordie won’t see her blush.  
Those four words repeat in her head as she lights the cigarette, and inhales. She hears them in her mind as the smoke burns her lungs and makes her eyes water.  
The nicotine makes her feel sick and dizzy, but she likes it a lot, actually. Geordie laughs at her when she stumbles, but she grabs Kate’s arm to keep her from falling. Kate blushes, remembering her words from earlier. I’ll look after you.  
“I’m a little worried about you,” Katie tells Kate that night. Kate has just finished relaying everything that happened that afternoon in great detail (“Geordie looked so pretty, with her hair and the smoke and everything, and smoking was fun, too,”). “I don’t know if this Geordie girl is a good person for you.”  
Kate rolls her eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. She’s a fine person. She’s really sweet.”  
Kate pretends she can’t feel Katie’s dark eyes on her.  
“Fine,” Katie sighs. “I’m sure she is. Just… be careful, alright? I’ve noticed Geordie is kind of mean.”  
“She is not,” Kate protests, even though she knows that her friend is partly right.  
Kate nods but doesn’t say anything. Katie sighs and says something else. Kate doesn’t listen.  
Probably, she should have. If she had listened to Katie, things could have ended up a lot differently.

“So like,” Geordie says to Kate one afternoon. A lot of the time, Kate is completely confused on why Geordie actually talks to her. Like, a senior talking to a sophomore seems a little… off. Whenever this thought comes up, Kate just pushes it aside and decides it’s luck.  
That’s what it has to be. Right?  
“You’re sixteen, right?”  
Kate hates, absolutely hates talking about her age. She doesn’t see why that’s a big factor of anything. She’s been through puberty and she’s younger than eighteen. Does it really matter after that? Not only that, but for some reason, you have to be sixteen to do anything.  
Reluctantly, she shakes her head. “No. Fifteen. But I’ll be sixteen soon.”  
Kate pretends not to see the expression on Geordie’s face. She knew Kate was only a sophomore. Why is she so surprised?  
“Oh,” Geordie says in an unpleasantly shocked voice. “Alright, never mind.”  
Kate tries not to show her crushing disappointment. If Geordie was just going to leave her out of it, why did she say anything in the first place? Honestly, though, she’s not angry at her friend. Just disappointed. It’s something she’s felt a lot, really, since she met the eighteen year old.  
Kate wants to argue, wants to say “no, what?” and have Geordie tell her.  
She doesn’t.  
“Recently, my mom’s been a total bitch,” Geordie tells Kate.  
Kate tries not to wince. She couldn’t imagine calling her mother that, ever.  
“Yeah?”  
“Yeah. It’s really irritating. She’s always following me around, asking where I’m going and who I’m seeing. Like, can I not have any privacy?”  
Personally, Kate doesn’t think it’s a bad thing that Geordie’s mother wants to know where she’s going. It doesn’t seem very intrusive, but she doesn’t say anything.  
“That sucks,” she says, focusing on the chipped pink nail polish on her nails. Her and Katie had painted them almost two weeks ago. Suddenly, she wishes Katie was there with her.  
“Totally,” Geordie blows a strand of copper colored hair out of her face. God, she’s so pretty. Kate could probably spend hours staring at her. Hopefully, though, Geordie won’t find out about this, the whole crush-on-Geordie thing. She’d probably hate her. Kate knows that having relationships outside your soul mate isn’t something a lot of people do, though she knows she would, with Geordie. Also, her age. It makes her cringe just to think about Geordie finding out.  
“So like, how’s your family?”  
“Mine?” Kate asks, startled from her thoughts. “Um, fine. They don’t fight or anything, like yours.”  
“That’s cool,” Geordie replies distantly, and Kate wonders if she cares about her parents more than she lets on. “Hey, wanna come over tomorrow? Maybe if I show my mom I have a respectable friend, she’ll leave me alone.”  
And Kate, well, she doesn’t really like the way Geordie says “respectful”, as if it’s a bad thing. Like she’s insulting Kate. She pushes the thought out of her head and nods. “Yeah, of course.”  
“Cool.”  
Kate remembers she made plans with Katie tomorrow. They were going to watch Love Actually, and eat pizza and probably stay up late talking about boys and girls and everything else. Their friendship has always been so simple, so easy. Not like her and Geordie’s friendship, which is probably mostly based on Geordie  
“Hey,” she begins. Geordie looks up, her wide gray eyes meeting Kate’s green ones. “Um, I forgot I had plans tomorrow. Can it happen another day?”  
And really, one thing she wasn’t expecting, was for Geordie to clench her hands into fists and glare at her. “I wanted to hang out with you tomorrow. But I guess if you have better things to do, you can do that. I don’t really need you anyways.”  
The words are hurtful, and unnecessary, and Kate has no idea where they came from, but the idea of Geordie not meeting her after school is scary, so she shakes her head. “Um. Never mind, it’s not really that important. I’ll... cancel. I guess.”  
She doesn’t mention that Love Actually is hardly ever on TV, or that her and Katie had been planning it for weeks. And later that day, when she tells Katie she can’t make it, she doesn’t tell her it’s because Geordie wants Kate to come over and she’d do anything for Geordie.  
The disappointment in Katie’s eyes lingers in Kate’s mind long after her friend is gone.

“I don’t see what’s wrong with your mom. She seems nice,” Kate tells Geordie. They’re at her house. Geordie’s room is painted a burgundy red and posters are plastered to the wall. It smells like flowers and something muskier. Cigarette smoke? Kate isn’t sure. She hasn’t smoked enough to be able to tell.  
“She isn’t,” Geordie says, rolling her eyes. “She just liked you because you’re the first friend I’ve brought home that is wearing a sweater and jeans and not like, some kind of Temptress of Pain dress.”  
And again, something in Geordie’s voice makes the fact of Kate wearing a sweater and jeans out as something bad, something immature. She self consciously picks at her sweater and looks down, making a mental note to ask her mother for new clothes. She’s fifteen, after all. That might not seem like much to Geordie, but really, it’s pretty old, in Kate’s opinion.  
Geordie isn’t actually that fun to hang out with - Kate knows this in the back of her mind. All she does is complain about her family and smoke, but there’s something kind of intoxicating about it, about the smoking and the age and everything. Her parents had always told her the many dangers of smoking, and while she’d never really pick it up, it makes her feel rebellious to be friends with someone who does.  
Geordie talks a lot about her mother and how much she had hated her friend (Kate can’t remember the name - Hayley? Heather?) and asked her to leave last time she came over. She leaves little opportunity for Kate to respond, and it’s sort of annoying, but sort of cool, too. Still, sitting on the cold hardwood floor of the older girl’s room, she finds herself wishing she was at Katie’s instead of here. 

 

“Whoa,” Katie says as Kate tosses some kind of short black dress thing into the cart. “Are you sure about this? There’s sweaters over there, Kit Kat.”  
“Shut up,” Kate glares. “I’m not a little kid. I can wear whatever I want. Sweaters are lame, anyways.”  
She pretends not to see the hurt in Katie’s eyes and leads the way to a pair of black boots. “What do you think?”  
“I mean,” Katie says, inspecting the boots skeptically. “If you’re going for wannabe scene, then sure.”  
Kate rolls her eyes. “You are absolutely no help. I should have brought Geordie.”  
“What’s so great about her, anyways? She’s older, sure, but other than that, she seems kind of bitchy.”  
“She is,” Kate says. “It’s hot.”  
“Oh my god,” Katie pretends to gag. “Gross. Geordie’s eyes are too pale. She looks kind of like a frog.”  
Kate laughs, because it’s sort of true. “Whatever. You like Gerard and he’s creepy.”  
“He’s an artistic soul,” Katie defends him.  
“Creepy,” Kate repeats.  
“I think you’d look good in this,” Katie holds up a short dress. “I mean maybe it’s not as scene as you wanted but it’s a step up from sweaters.”  
“I like it,” Kate says, placing it in the basket with care. “Do you Geordie will?”  
“Geordie this, Geordie that,” Katie sighs heavily. “Let’s talk about something else.”  
The next two hours are spent not talking about Geordie, and Kate has to admit, it’s nice. Really nice. It’s easy to forget about Katie when she’s with Geordie, but honestly, there’s no one else she’d rather go shopping with. Geordie would probably talk about how small Kate’s breasts are, an humiliating topic that had come up once or twice in the past when they’d been at a store for Geordie. Kate didn’t think they were that small - she was still growing, after all, and even if she wasn’t, B-cups weren’t like, miniscule.  
Katie, of course, talks of no such thing the entire time, but offers helpful fashion advice. It makes Kate thankful she has normal friends, ones that won’t point out her physical faults on a regular basis.

 

One day, when Kate is sitting on the steps of her school, a day when Katie has tennis and Geordie has other plans, a boy sits next to her.  
He has strawberry blonde hair and black glasses on his nose. He’s Kate’s height, maybe even shorter, and his smile is something sweeter than cupcakes.  
“Hey,” he says, smiling that sugary smile at her. “I’m Patrick.”  
She eyes his hand before shaking it. “Kate.”  
“Nice to meet you! A beautiful day, isn’t it?”  
It is, she has to admit. The sky is the kind of blue that hurts to look at and the sun is blinding.  
“Yeah,” she says, smiling back at him hesitantly. “Yeah, it is.”  
“You have pretty hair,” he says to her. “I like it. It’s kind of… I don’t know. It’s brown but in the sun, there’s red in it.”  
She smiles at him. “Thank you. You have pretty eyes.”  
And he does, they’re an ocean green blue, bright and wide.  
He beams at her and wow, he’s so cute. Kate might die.  
“You’re in my art class, right?” He asks, and she nods, suddenly remembering that yes, he was that kid that sat at the back.  
“Yeah,” she says. “Um, how is your painting going?”  
“Awfully,” Patrick snorts. “I have no talent whatsoever in that area. But I really like yours,” another sweet smile.  
She blushes. “Thanks.”  
“Hey!” Someone shouts. “Patrick! Let’s go!”  
Patrick gets up, shouldering the backpack and smiling down at her with that smile. “Well, that’s me. See you tomorrow?”  
“Sure,” she waves,, watching as he turns and hurries into a waiting car. The sun is warm on her face and suddenly, she’s surprisingly okay with Katie and Geordie being busy on Thursdays, and hopeful for becoming closer friends with Patrick.

 

“I saw you with a boy the other day,” Geordie says abruptly, too loudly for the library they’re currently walking in.  
Kate squints at her. “You did? When?”  
“Thursday. I was passing by on my way to… anyways, I saw you with a blonde boy. Is he your boyfriend?”  
Kate laughs. “Oh, no, Patrick’s not my boyfriend. I’ve only known him for about two days.”  
Is it just her, or does Geordie seem relieved? Or is it wishful thinking?  
“Cool,” Geordie says. She starts talking about something else, something about her friend Trevor, and Kate gets distracted by the way she sucks in breathes between sentences. It’s something she could watch for hours. She sighs quietly. Liking Geordie makes her feel exhausted - it’s basically a full time job. She wants to go home and nap, or talk to her parents or anything to get rid of that annoying shallow hurt in her stomach.  
“Listen,” Kate says, interrupting her. “I have to go.”  
The girl pauses, blinking, and stares at her. “Um… Okay. See you later?”  
“Yeah,” she nods, slipping out of the library table and slinging her bag over her shoulder, glancing back as she gets to the door. The sun is shining through Geordie’s hair and it looks like spun gold. Kate is reminded of why she likes her.  
But before she hesitates, she pushes the door open and heads out into the sunshine.

 

Sometime later that night, her mother comes into her room and sits down on the bed.  
“Hi,” Kate says.  
Her mother smiles but it’s a bittersweet kind of thing.  
“Hi. I need to talk to you.”  
Tilting her head, Kate shuffles into a sitting position. “Uh, okay. Go ahead.”  
Her mother sighs, twisting her fingers. “Your father isn’t… going to be around, for a couple of months.”  
Kate stares at her. “What? Why?”  
Her mother looks down. She looks so tired, Kate thinks suddenly. While Kate’s been busy, worrying over Geordie, she hasn’t been paying attention to her parents, not really.  
“Just… because. It’s… hard to explain.”  
Every pause in the sentence is loaded with something left unsaid. Kate isn’t sure what it is.  
Kate’s father works at some kind of boring firm that owns a chain of stores. She isn’t even sure what he does, just that he’s gone when she wakes up for school and back by dinner, and he always wears suits to work.  
Kate’s mother is some kind of makeup consultant, and therefore gives Kate tons of palettes and things to work with. It’s a nice plus. The hours of her job fluctuate, depending on clients, Kate supposes. Sometimes she’s home when Kate gets home from school and sometimes she’s not home till nine or later.  
“Business trips,” her mother says. Kate can tell it’s a lie. It took too long for her mother to say it, and her eyes won’t meet Kate’s.  
“Okay,” Kate says, because it’s so much easier just to agree than to ask more. She doesn’t want the tiredness in her mother’s eyes to get anymore hurt.  
She doesn’t see her father for three days after that. He comes home for a couple of days, and then he disappears again for a month.  
About here is when the fighting starts.  
Kate doesn’t know how, or why. She isn’t sure how you can scream at the person perfectly designed for you for hours, or say the things her mother yelled.  
Don’t they ever look down and see their names on their wrists, and realize this is stupid?  
But she suppose not, because it drags on.  
She’s lying in her bed, staring out the window at the street. It’s raining and she can’t see the moon. The streetlights are casting orange circles of light onto the pavement. There’s something about the emptiness that gets to her. Something hard to explain.  
Below, on the first floor, she hears her mother yell something about her father never listening to her. Kate rolls over and closes her eyes, wishing she could block it out.  
Everything will be okay tomorrow. It has to be. They’re soul mates, they aren’t supposed to fight.  
She doesn’t fall asleep for a long time.

 

The next morning, her mother smiles at her tightly when she sends Kate off to school. It’s a dreary day out, cold and rainy.  
“I can’t wait till summer,” Kate says gloomily, glaring out the window. It’s only November, but still.  
“Mhm,” her mother says, sounding distant. She hands Kate a granola bar and her backpack. “Come on, you’ll be late if you wait any longer.”  
As she gets up, Kate notices her mother’s eyes are red, like she’s been crying, and her hands shake as she folds napkin into little squares.  
“Bye, mom, love you,” she says, not sure what else to say.  
Her mother doesn’t look up and Kate hesitates before opening the door and stepping out into the rain.  
The wind is harsh and she wraps her arms around herself as she walks to school. It’s not that far away, only about half a mile, but she’s still shivering and wet by the time she gets to the familiar concrete steps.  
“Hey,” Patrick says, smiling at her. “You look tired.”  
Kate smiles at him. It feels forced. “Yeah, I didn’t sleep well last night.”  
He frowns, and links her arm with his. They always get weird looks when they walk like this, but she doesn’t think anything of it. Her and Patrick do this a lot and it’s just nice, and comforting. Nothing more.  
School goes by agonizingly slowly that day. The minutes feel like hours, and even Patrick and Katie can’t cheer her up.  
Finally, the bell rings the last time, and Kate shoulders her backpack, sighing.  
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Patrick says to her, surprising her with a hug. She hugs him back, drawing comfort from the warmth of his body. It’s still raining out, and it feels nice against her cold skin.  
“See you,” she says, smiling at him slightly as he walks away.  
She sits down on the concrete steps, even though the rain is getting harder. She feels like she’s waiting. For what, she doesn’t know.  
Time passes, and she remembers it’s a Thursday, and Katie and Geordie are busy on Thursdays. She’s there for no reason.  
Despite the fact that it’s absolutely pouring now, and her hoodie is soaked, she stays. She doesn’t know why, but something is telling her to. Like she shouldn’t move, not yet.  
As she’s sitting there, a car pulls up across the street. Two boys climb out, and she can’t really see their faces from here.  
“Spencer!” One calls. His voice is unlike anything she’s ever heard before. Clear, beautiful. “It’s fucking pouring, man, why are we here!”  
The other boy turns to face him. He has light brown hair that’s kept safe and dry under a baseball cap and bright blue eyes. He looks round and cuddly. “I don’t know, George, maybe because someone had to get Brendon some flower.”  
The other boy, the one with the pretty voice, says, “Shut up, you know I hate it when people call me that. And anyways, it was completely worth it.”  
They say something else, and then the boy turns to face Kate. She can see his face now.  
He’s got black hair that’s plastered to his pale forehead with the rain and cheekbones that could rival Angelina Jolie’s and lips that are bitten and red. His fingers are so long, and his wrists seem strangely slim, something that should seem off about him, but it’s not. It just makes him… better.  
He is the most beautiful person she has ever seen.  
There’s something warm in her she can’t explain, and her heart is beating hard and fast and the rain doesn’t even matter, not anymore. Not when this boy is in front of her.  
And then the car door slams and the car starts and he’s gone, driving down the street, the only car on the road.  
Kate watches until it’s out of sight, her mouth slightly open. Her entire body is still warm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am currently editing this! i know that i haven't updated this in months, and i have an explanation for that, i swear. but, i am starting this again !so yeah


	2. Chapter 2

For days afterward, she can’t think of anything but the boy.

She doesn’t know what that means. Is he her soul mate? But if he was, wouldn’t they have talked, or anything? Aren’t you supposed to  _ meet _ your soul mate, not just see them from across a street, for about three minutes?

She has so many questions and no answers.

“Are you okay?” Patrick asks. It’s Sunday, and the weather has cleared up, the sun shining down with annoying ferocity, though it’s still cold.

They’re sitting on a brick wall that’s kind of near Patrick’s house. It’s a little sketchy, but she figures it’s the middle of the day, so they’re probably safe.

“Yeah,” she says, glancing around to meet his blues eyes. “M’fine. Why?”

He shakes his head. “You’ve just been… really out of it.”

The boy flashes through her mind. “Yeah, sorry. I’ve just been… busy with homework.”

Patrick looks at her skeptically. “Kate, we’re in all the same classes. We haven’t had much homework for the past week. Why don’t you tell me what’s up?”

She shifts, not sure how to begin. It’s not like she can’t trust Patrick, or anything. She’s just afraid he’ll think it’s stupid.

“Well. I mean…” And so she does tell him, trying to explain as best she can how it felt to see that boy, standing across the road, the warmth that suddenly took over and how it didn’t matter it was pouring rain, or the how her shoes were soaked through or how she hadn’t gotten any sleep the night before but it just didn’t matter, right then.

When she’s finished, Patrick stares at her, open mouthed. “Wow,” he manages.

“Yeah,” Kate says, staring down at her feet.

Patrick scoots closer to her, takes her hand. His hand is warm and comforting around hers. “D’you think you’ll see him again?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know if it matters. If I do, then cool, but if I don’t, then whatever.”

He stares at her, looking slightly worried. “Well… alright.”

They sit in silence for a while, and Kate wishes she could pause this moment forever. She doesn’t want to grow up or deal with Geordie or anyone, really, but Patrick and Katie. They’re so easy and simple and comfortable. Her best friends, she thinks to herself.  She wouldn’t trade them for anything.

  
  


Kate turns sixteen, and her father comes back for it.

“Hey, Kit Kat,” he says, opening up his arms. Kate doesn’t even care that she’s sixteen, and probably too old for it, she jumps into his arms.

He stumbles, laughing, and her mother leans in the doorway, smiling. For a minute, it feels like everything is fine. Like her parents hadn’t been fighting every time they were together, like the silences in this house are peaceful and not of full of something bitter, something that’s heavy and leaves a bad taste in Kate’s mouth.

Then her father stands up, and smiles at her mother and it’s real and it’s there and Kate feels so happy, she might burst.

“Hello, Jonathon,” her mother says, her voice full of affection.

He hugs her, too, and everything is okay. Maybe everything will be okay.

  
  


“God,” Geordie says. It’s incredibly cold and Kate’s nose is runny. It’ll probably snow soon. “I love Christmas break so much.”

Kate hums in agreement. Geordie rolls her eyes and shoves her hands in her pockets. “Hey, you’re sixteen, right?”

This time, Kate nods, feeling relieved that she isn’t fifteen anymore. It’s such a bad age to be, in her opinion.

“Good,” Geordie says briskly. “Party on Saturday. Come.”

Kate tries not to beam and probably fails. “Okay! What kind of party is it?”

Geordie rolls her eyes, again. “I don’t know, a party?”

Kate nods like she’s been to a billion parties. “Okay. Sure, yeah, I’ll be there.”

Geordie smiles at her, and Kate smiles back. She has to admit that Geordie can be bitchy a lot, but there are moments when she’s undeniably sweet.

“Fuck,” Geordie says, shivering. She pulls her coat tighter around her. “It’s going to snow soon.”

“I hope so,” Kate says, smiling up at the gray sky.

Geordie turns to her and smiles, looking like a little kid. “I love snow.”

“So do I,” Kate agrees, looking up at Geordie, knowing adoration is probably written across her face. “It makes everything seem so cozy.”

“I know,” the girl replies, draping her arm around Kate’s shoulders and smiling down at her.

They walk like that for a while, Geordie’s arm around Kate’s shoulders. Slowly, gradually, Kate slips an arm around Geordie’s waist.

The wind is blowing hard and cold, and it’s starting to get dark, but Kate doesn’t notice because sometimes, there are moments when Geordie is mean, and insulting and makes Kate feel bad about herself, but then there are moments like this, when they can talk about anything, and Kate feels like she’s loved, like anything could happen right now and she’d be alright.

And later, when Geordie kisses her cheek goodbye, Kate feels like her entire body is blushing, and that night, when the clouds clear up and she can see the stars, she wonders if this is a good omen.

  
  


“I don’t think this is a good idea.”

Kate looks up and tries not to laugh. Katie and Patrick, hands on their hips, are standing there. She’s sure they’re trying to look frightening, but honestly, both Katie and Patrick are short and cute and have totally failed.

“Okay,” Kate says. “That’s nice. I’m still going.”

Katie sighs, sounding frustrated, and Patrick’s big eyes just look at Kate. “Kate, I just… I mean, who knows who’s going to be there? Or what’s going to be there?”

“Don’t worry, guys,” Kate focuses on her reflection in the mirror. She wishes her hair was a little lighter. “Geordie said she’d take care of me.”

“Right,” Katie snorts. “ _ Geordie.  _ Yeah.”

“Shut up,” Kate frowns. “She’s nice.”

Patrick intercepts. “Katie doesn’t mean she isn’t. It’s just… she’s eighteen, now, and like… what happens if the cops show up or something?”

Kate rolls her eyes. “They  _ won’t.  _ And on the incredibly slim chance that they do, then Geordie will get me out of there.”

“The trust you have in her is rather disturbing in its amount,” Katie watches Kate hold up a dress and then puts it down again.

“I like your red dress,” Patrick says.

“Yeah, but that might be a little provocative,” Kate says hesitantly.

“Red is like, the color of sex,” Katie says disapprovingly.

“Aren’t you  too young to have sex?” Patrick asks doubtfully.

Kate  _ wants  _ to say she isn’t, but she knows she doesn’t want to have sex right now, anyways.

“I guess,” she agrees reluctantly. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t look sexy.”

“It kind of seems like false advertising,” Katie says doubtfully.

“No,” Kate vehemently. “It’s just looking good.”

“ _ I  _ think it’s Kate’s decision,” Patrick decrees, flopping onto Kate’s bed.  “I mean, if she wants to have sex, then that’s all well and good. It’s not a question of age, it’s more a question of maturity and emotional stability.”

“You’re so wise,” Kate says, staring up at Patrick in awe.

He puffs out his chest just a little bit. “Well, I try.”

Kate smiles at him. “I won’t wear red, I’ll wear blue.”

  
  


“Is this a date?” Her mother asks, looking almost excited.

Kate shakes her head furiously. “God, mom, no. We’re going to a party, that’s all.”

“Okay,” her mother says in a tone of voice that clearly states she doesn’t believe Kate whatsoever. “Have fun.”

“I will,” Kate says, and quickly shuts the door behind her. It’s a clear, cold night and she can see the stars.

“Hey,” Geordie says. “You look pretty.”

Kate might die of happiness right there, but doesn’t say anything but “Thank you,” her voice embarrassingly shaky.

The drive to the party is full of Geordie giving her a summary of who’s going to be there and what they’re like (“Oh my  _ God,  _ Trevor is actually a stoner. Just… yeah. And Linsday totally has herpes, so don’t kiss her”). Kate listens carefully, filing each piece of information away for later.

The house it’s at isn’t anything special. There’s purple fairy light strung up outside and she can hear the fast beat of music coming from inside.

Geordie takes her hand and Kate stumbles over her own feet several times before they get to the door.

“Geordie?” Someone says as soon as they step inside. It smells like sweat, and some other unpleasant smell.

“Weed,” Geordie says bluntly when she sees Kate’s nose wrinkle. “Hey, Trevor.”

Trevor, the apparent stoner, has light brown hair and sky blue eyes. He’s wearing a t-shirt, and Kate can see the two letters of his soul mate’s name on his wrist in green:  _ “ir” _

_ Iris,  _ Kate thinks.  _ Irena. Irsula. Irwin. _

She can’t think of any other names that begin with “ir” and focuses on the people around her.

“This is Kate,” Geordie tells Trevor. Another boy with possibly the best smile Kate’s ever seen and surfer style hair smiles at her lazily. “Kate, this is Jon.”

“Hi,” Kate says.

“Hi,” Trevor says to her, subtly pushing Jon aside. His eyes look her up and down and Kate has a sudden urge to cover herself up, and not let this strange boy’s eyes look at her. “I haven’t seen you around.”

“Um,” Kate replies, feeling sort of uncomfortable.

“Dude,” Jon places a hand on Trevor’s shoulder. “You’re freaking her out, man. Back off.”

Kate looks up for Geordie, but she’s not there, anymore. She fights off the urge to panic.

Trevor, after Jon telling him off, rolls his eyes and disappears into the crowd. She’s left with Jon.

“Hey,” he says, looking at her with a little bit of concern. “How old are you?”

Kate crosses her arms over her chest, biting her cheek. “Sixteen.”

Jon slowly drags a hand over his face. “Jesus  _ Christ,” _ he moans. “Fucking Geordie. Of course, of fucking course.”

Kate stares at him. He sighs heavily. “Sorry, sorry. Hey, kid, come over here. Do you know anyone here?”

“Only Geordie,” she says, following him to the kitchen. There’s less people in here, and Jon opens up a non-descript red cooler. “We literally have no non-alcohol drinks. God, this is so bad. I’m  _ so  _ sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Kate tells him. She’s starting to enjoy it, after the initial panic. Jon is nice, and even though it’s crowded in here, it’s not that bad.

He sighs. “I’m sorry. Geordie shouldn’t be bringing you here. I thought she learned her lesson last time.”

“What happened last time?” Kate asks, genuinely interested.

“Pregnant,” Jon says grimly.

Kate’s eyes widen. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” he says, shaking his head. “I mean, I hear she’s doing fine now, and the guy was her soul mate. But god, she was only sixteen. I imagine she was drunk, and excited about finding her soul mate.”

If Kate squints, she can see the letters “ _ cas”  _ in purple-blue on Jon’s wrist.  _ Cassandra,  _ she thinks.  _ Cassie. Casey. Cass. _

“So, are you in love with Geordie too?” Jon asks conversationally. “Also, if you want, there’s some shitty schnapps in there.”

Kate knows she probably shouldn’t. She  _ knows  _ that. But somehow, she finds herself asking Jon for a bottle opener.

The alcohol burns her throat a little, but it leaves a pleasant warm feeling in her stomach.

“So are you?” Jon questions.

Feeling better about her situation, she turns to face him. “Am I what?”

“In love with Geordie.”

“What is love, really?” Kate asks, trying to avoid the question. “I don’t think I love her, no. I like her. But I don’t love her.”

“That’s good,” Jon leans against the counter. “Geordie is a hard person to love.”

Kate thinks of the letters on Geordie’s wrist, the  _ “mich”  _ there in a murky green.  _ Michael,  _ she thinks.  _ Michaela. _

“Yeah,” she says out loud. “I can see that. Hey, by the way, how old are you?”

Jon takes a drink of whatever beverage he has in his hand. It looks like orange juice, but the comment about there being no nonalcoholic drinks runs through Kate’s mind. “I’m twenty, almost twenty-one, though. Music major.”

“Hmm,” Kate hums, taking a sip of her drink. It’s almost too sweet, and as she drinks more of it, the warmth in her chest is expanding.  She feels… better. Not so careful of what she’s doing, not so aware of everything wrong with what she’s doing.

If she’s being honest, Jon is pretty attractive. Brown hair that frames his face, ocean blue eyes. The prettiest smile ever, probably. His eyes wrinkle when he does (smile, that is) and his teeth are perfectly white and straight.

They talk for a while longer, and it feels like they’re kind of orbiting towards each other.

At some point, Kate’s wrist starts to tingle. She’s had a fair amount of schnapps now, and she passes it off as that until Jon says, “Hey, look, your wrist.”

She glances down, and there’s a new letter, next to the curled, dark brown “R”. Now it says “ry”.

“Cool,” Jon says. “It’s kind of a fluke, don’t you think, that it’s not really a help that more letters appear the closer you are to finding your soul mate. I mean, some people have like ten letters in their name, and some have three.”

“They appear slower,” Kate announces.

“No fucking way,” Jon rolls his eyes. “I’m just saying, it’s not helpful.”

“I guess,” she agrees reluctantly.

Right then, someone stumbles into the kitchen. It’s Trevor, again, his eyes red. “Hey, man, they’ve got some pretty good shit this time.”

Jon shifts, and looks at Kate. “I don’t want to be a bad influence – “ he begins.

“Shut up,” Kate tells him. “Let’s go.”

She hears him mutter something about how he wasn’t like this when he was sixteen. She ignores him and follows Trevor along the hall, pushing past people who are sweaty and several who are making out against a wall.

“Lindsay,” Jon whispers to her, pointing to a girl with curly blonde hair as they pass her. She doesn’t really look like she has herpes, Kate thinks.

Trevor opens the door at the end of the hall, and inside it’s smoky, the same unpleasant smell as before. There’s about nine people sitting around, including Trevor.

“Hey, Jon,” one says.

“Hey, Brent,” Jon nods. He leads the way to a spot and Kate follows him, not sure what else to do.

Jon smiles at her as they sit down. “Do you want to do this?”

And she does, actually. Probably, this is just the warm, spinning feeling in her head talking, but she wants to try weed and she also really wants to kiss Jon. The last thing probably isn’t a good idea. Actually, both of these things are probably not good ideas.

“Yes,” she tells him. Their thighs are touching. God, it’s ridiculous how much she  _ wants  _ him. She wanted Geordie, she thought, but it’s nothing compared to this. Kate’s sexual attraction before this was never very realistic - mostly movie stars and celebrities. It made her feel weird to think about Geordie in a sexual way.

They pass around what looks kind of like a pipe, and when it gets to her, while everyone else is laughing at something, Jon tells her softly how to inhale as she lights it. She does as she’s told.

“Good job,” Jon says approvingly. “You’re a natural.”

She beams at the compliment, and leans into him a little bit more. The parts of her arm that’s touching his skin feels like it’s on fire and she wasn’t aware that lust could be so powerful. If love potions were real, she’d think Jon drugged her.

The pipe goes around a few more times, and Kate inhales more of the smoke that burns her lungs. She’s feeling so happy, so happy and so  _ warm.  _ It’s incredibly pleasant. She feels okay

“Is this your first time being high?” Jon asks her, looking amused.

She nods. “And drunk.”

He whistles. “Wow, this must be hitting you hard.”

She nods and giggles, leaning her head onto his shoulder. The fabric of his shirt is so  _ soft,  _ like satin, even though she knows it’s just plain cotton.

“Maybe we should take you outside,” Jon suggests, standing up and taking her hand. He pulls her up and she falls over about twice before successfully standing.

“You are so hammered,” someone says to her. She isn’t sure who, some girl with black hair and dark eyes.

“I know,” she tells the girl, and laughs. “Isn’t it wonderful?”

Jon leads the way outside. The night is cold and Kate can still see the stars.

She takes a couple of deep breathes, relishing the way it feels like she’s inhaling starlight. She feels a little better out here, away from the smoky room and the smell of sweat.

“Feeling a little better?” Jon asks her.

She nods. “Much.”

He sits down on the deck and pats the space next to him. She settles onto the cool wood, stretching her feet out in front of her.

“Where are you shoes?”

She wriggles her toes. “I took them off inside. They were making my feet hurt.” She draws out the “T” at the end, liking the way it sounds in the night.

Jon looks like he’s trying not to laugh. “Okay, then.”

They sit there for a while, Jon telling her about something that happened at a party a long time ago. She’s trying to ignore it, but ugh, she  _ wants  _ him, and she knows it’s only hormones or whatever, but that doesn’t change the fact that she does. Her whole body is aching to touch someone else’s, sexually or not and it makes it hard to listen to him.

“Jon,” she interrupts him.

He stammers to a stop. Kate might be the drunkest one out of the two of them, but Jon is pretty gone, too. “What?”

“What would you do if I…” she pauses. “Kissed you.”

Jon starts laughing so hard he falls onto his back. “God, I don’t know. Why?”

She decides that’s not a bad reaction, and leans forward, pressing her lips to his.

He makes a startled sound and doesn’t kiss back for a second (not that Kate would know – this is her first real kiss) before he starts to kiss back, his hands dropping to her waist.

And this is probably a mistake, a huge, huge mistake. Jon is _ twenty _ . They’re both drunk. This shouldn’t be happening.

But Kate loves the way he touches her skin, and doesn’t stop it when his hands slide up her shirt, and doesn’t stop it when the kissing gets a little more insistent, and doesn’t stop it and doesn’t stop it and doesn’t stop it.

  
  


Kate’s head hurts.

She rolls over, moaning a little bit. The sunlight shining through her window is burning the back of her eyelids.

She hangs her arm out to the side, and almost screams when she comes into contact with a warm body.

The body next to her is breathing slowly, deeply, and it’s obvious they’re still asleep. Kate, ignoring her headache, props her head up on her elbow and looks at the person.

Jon.

Everything comes back to her, admittedly a little fuzzy. She closes her eyes and wants to hit herself. How could she do this? God, this was a mistake.

She grabs her phone from where it’s resting on the bed side table. Eight missed calls and seventeen new text messages. Most are from Geordie, asking where she went, two from Patrick, and three from Katie.  She had told her mother she’d be spending the night at Geordie’s, so at least there were no parental consequences to deal with.

Next to her, Jon groans. She has to admit, even though this was a mistake, he’s still attractive. His light brown hair is ruffled and messy, and there’s a shadow of stubble across his chin. She knows when he wakes up, his eyes will open to reveal the ocean blue color and well, Kate did make a good choice of a person to sleep with. Despite the fact that he’s four years older than her.

She lies back down and sighs, staring at the dark brown “ _ ry”  _ on her wrist. It looks so nice, there on her skin, contrasting beautifully.

She wonders about them. Him or her. Her soul mate.

The thing, she supposes, about soul mates, is that you don’t get a choice. Not really. She can fall in love with fifteen hundred different people, but still, apparently, somewhere out there is someone  _ better, _ someone made for just  _ her. _

The idea, usually comforting, is scary, now. It’s like some kind of taunt – you might _ think _ you’re happy now, but you don’t even really know what happiness feels like.

She couldn’t be with Jon, even if she wanted to. Out there, is someone whose name starts with “cas” and is his perfect match. Out there, is someone whose name starts with “ry” and is her perfect match. This is just a moment to be lost.

“Hey,” Jon says, yawning and breaking her out of her thoughts.

“Hey,” Kate says back. The sunlight is staining the sheets, turning them a buttery yellow. The blankets are low on Jon’s hips, and she isn’t sure if the sight repulses her or draws her in.

He yawns, stretching his arms out over his head.  Then his arms drop, and he looks at her, his eyes wide. “Fuck. Kate.”

“Yes?”

He rubs his face, looking tired. “Shit. You’re sixteen. Fuck.”

“It’s okay,” she tells him, even though it’s not, not really. “Really. I won’t tell anyone.”

He bites his lip. “I’m sorry. I was supposed to take care of you and then I…”

He shouldn’t feel guilty. Kate was the one who pushed it, Kate was the one who kissed him. She initiated it.

“It was my fault,” she tells him honestly.

“It was both of our faults,” Jon says rationally. “We were both drunk and high.”

“Sure,” Kate agrees. “Alright.”

They look at each other.

Kissing is a little strange, Kate thinks. There are so many different ways of it. Like her first kiss, during a game of Truth or Dare. It was awkward, and stilted, and maybe not quite consensual. And then there was the kiss last night, with Jon and that felt sloppy, almost. Messy and kind of wet (but Kate digresses – probably that was more her fault than Jon’s) and then there’s the kiss that’s happening right now. There’s an edge of something dark in it, some kind of desire she’s never felt before.

She  _ craves  _ him. Jon, that is. She wants him so badly, it almost hurts.

The stubble on his jaw scratches her face, and his hands are pressing gently but firmly against her lower back. His skin feels hot against her own, an insistent burning that makes her forget everything but the boy in her arms.

 

Sometime in the early afternoon, they get out of bed.

“Wait,” Kate says as Jon leads the way downstairs. “This is your house?”

The stairs are littered with red plastic cups. The living room is worse, nondescript stains on the couch and carpet and cigarette butts on the coffee table.

“Yeah,” Jon says. “I sometimes host parties. My parents are like, kind of rich, so they bought me this house.” He sends her a wiry grin. “Will you help clean up?”

It doesn’t take as long as Kate thought to clean up. They wipe up the stains as best as they can and walk around with black garbage bags and pick up all the trash. Jon opens up the windows in the room that they all smoked weed in last night. It doesn’t look nearly as mysterious as it did last night. The walls are pale green and there’s a desk in the corner littered in papers.

“Study room,” Jon tells her, smiling sheepishly. “Admittedly, I never really study in there. It’s become the “watch Netflix there because I’m too lazy to walk to the actual TV room”. Though sometimes I work on homework there, if I’m in the mood.”

Kate laughs and follows him to the kitchen. They sweep up the last of the red cups, but just as Kate’s dumping one into the sink, Jon runs into her and she spills it all over her dress from the night before.

“Shit,” Jon swears. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize –“

“It’s fine,” Kate cuts him off, holding the sticky fabric away from her stomach. It smells foul, and her nose wrinkles.

“You can borrow a shirt,” Jon offers, looking apologetic.

“Okay,” Kate agrees. He leads the way upstairs again and throws her a shirt.

“I guess you’ll  just have to walk around without pants,” Jon says, smiling that wonderfully crooked smile at her suggestively.

Kate considers it, before slipping her dress over her head and pulling on his shirt. “Mmkay, let’s go.”

Jon stares at her. “I wasn’t expecting you to actually  _ do  _ it. I’m sure I have some girl clothes around here somewhere.”

She doesn’t like the idea of another girl’s clothes in his house, and likes the feeling of being bold.“It’s okay. I don’t mind.”

Jon’s eyes darken with something Kate thinks is probably lust, and the thought of it makes her blush. She hasn’t been thinking of it, but yeah, she lost her virginity last night. To someone she barely knows.

But as she sits on the counter while Jon makes breakfast, talking in some ridiculously bad French accent while he flips the French toast, she doesn’t regret it. Not one bit.

 

“Where the fuck  _ were  _ you?”

Kate avoids Geordie’s gray gaze, looking down at the table. “I was tired. I went home.”

Geordie raises an eyebrow. “Uh-huh. I know when you lie, Kate. And I also heard Jon was having sex with some girl last night, so why don’t you just tell me the truth?”

It seems a little redundant, Kate thinks, that she had to ask Kate where she was if she already knew.

“Fine,” Kate shrugs. “Yeah, I didn’t go home. I was with Jon. Now you know.”

And yeah, usually she isn’t this sharp with Geordie, or anyone for that matter. But after going to that party, and being with Jon, she’s kind of… toughened up, maybe. She doesn’t feel as innocent as she used to be, at least.

Geordie stares at her. “Kate, you’re sixteen. He’s  _ twenty.  _ Four years isn’t that bad, and if you were just dating, I’d be fine with it but the fact is, isn’t the age of consent seventeen? If anyone finds out, he could go to jail or something.”

“It’s sixteen. And no one  _ will  _ find out,” Kate says firmly. She meets Geordie’s eyes. “Unless, of course, you tell them.”

Geordie sighs and looks up at the ceiling. “God. I wouldn’t tell anyone. Just… don’t tell anyone you don’t trust, okay?”

 

_ “You had sex!?” _

Kate puts her finger to her lips, attempting to quiet Katie. “Shut up, no one can hear!”

Katie lowers her voice. “Sorry. But this is huge!”

“I’ll say,” Patrick agrees, staring at Kate hard. It makes her a little uncomfortable. It’s like he’s searching for something in her, something he’s not finding.

“That’s not all of it,” Kate is actually enjoying their reactions. “He’s twenty.”

When did she start enjoying shocking people so much? She’s not sure. But the looks on Katie and Patrick’s faces are priceless.

“I knew we shouldn’t have let you go to this party,” Katie mutters.

Patrick tilts his head. “I don’t know. You look happier.”

That’s a strange thing to say, really, but Kate doesn’t think much of it.

“I felt…” she searches for the word. “Good. I felt good at the party, and afterwards. It’s like… for a minute, there, I forgot everything.”

She isn’t sure how to explain how she felt like a different person, someone more special, someone better than who she is now. Someone who isn’t so afraid to say things, and isn’t afraid to do what they want. Someone she wants to be.

“Well,” Katie says briskly. “That’s all well and good. So are you seeing this twenty year old again?”

“His name is Jon,” Kate informs them. “And I don’t know. He gave me his number. I probably shouldn’t, though.”

“I have a friend named Jon,” Patrick muses. “Or, well, not really a friend. But I know him.”

“Cool,” Katie says. “And yeah, Kate, probably it’s not a good idea. You should probably wait till you’re sixteen.”

Kate wants to remind her that her birthday isn’t for another year, that that’s a long time to wait, that right now, she could very well be falling in love with Jon.

But she doesn’t.

Her phone vibrates in her pocket and she fishes it out, ignoring Patrick and Katie for the time being.

It’s a text from Jon, just saying a simple “hey”. Kate tries not feel like her heart is exploding and smiles as she texts him back.

“That’s him, isn’t it,” Katie sighs. It isn’t really a question.

“How did you know?” Kate asks, turning off her phone.

“You always stick your tongue out when you’re happy,” Patrick explains. “It’s kind of cute, really.”

“Oh,” Kate frowns. “Well, okay.”

They sit in silence for a minute. They’d walked to a café after school got out, and all around them Kate could hear snippets of conversations.

“Wait,” Katie says suddenly. “Does this mean you’re not into Geordie anymore?”

Kate tilts her head to the side. “I don’t know. I mean… yeah, no. Geordie isn’t…”

_ Isn’t Jon,  _ she thinks. She doesn’t say it.

“I get it,” Patrick nods, stirring his latte absent mindedly. “I mean, I know Jon’s twenty and everything, but sometimes you just meet someone you really like, I guess.”

“Ooo,” Katie grins, poking his arm. “Have you found someone, ‘Trick?”

Patrick turns tomato red in about point three seconds. “No!”

Kate laughs. “C’mon, you can tell us!”

If possible, he gets even redder. “Her name’s Anna.”

“Awh,” Katie coos. “What does she look like?”

“Beautiful,” Patrick says dreamily.

“Awh,” Katie repeats.

Kate leans back in her chair and listens to Patrick talk about Anna. It’s good, she decides, that he has someone. Now if they could only get Katie with someone, they’d all be happy.

 

“It’s beautiful,” her mother says.

Kate steps back to stand by her mother and smiles. “I like it.”

In front of them is a Christmas tree, outfitted in so many lights, it’s almost drooping and every branch littered with ornaments.

“So when will Dad get back?” Kate asks casually as they begin to clean up, putting away all the pieces of foam that surrounded the ornaments while in storage.

She pretends not to see the way her mother falters, or how her hands start to shake, just a little bit. “Ah, I don’t know. He’ll be home for Christmas, though.” She smiles at Kate.

Kate presses her lips together and tries to believe her, even though the uncertainty in her voice was obvious.

“Okay,” she says.

Her mother stands up. “Want some hot chocolate?”

“Okay,” Kate says again, packing the unused ornaments carefully into the box.

Her mother disappears into the kitchen. Kate closes the box, puts it in the garage and heads to join her mother in the kitchen.

The door is open a crack and she pauses outside, looking in.

Her mother is leaning against the counter, her shoulders shaking. Her hands are pressed against her mouth, and there’s tears running down her face.

Kate closes her eyes and opens them again, hoping it was an illusion. But no, her mother is still crying in the kitchen, the tub of hot chocolate powder on the counter.

Quickly, she backs away, sitting on the couch. She doesn’t want to think about it, that her mother was crying. She doesn’t want to think of why.

The door to the kitchen opens, and Kate quickly pretends to be rearranging something on the Christmas tree.

“Hot chocolate,” her mother says. Kate takes a cup and pretends not to see the redness of her mother’s eyes, or how her voice sounds thick.

They sit on the couch, and pretend nothing’s wrong, and that her father isn’t supposed to be sitting next to them.

Kate starts to doubt soul mates, just a little bit more.

 

“Cassry,” Jon says.

“Rycass?” Kate suggests.

“There’s not many ways to combine “ry” and “cass”,” Jon says regretfully.

“I guess not,” Kate sighs.

They’re quiet for a moment before she says, softly, “What do you think of people with two soul mates?”

Jon turns onto his side, facing her. “Well, they can’t help it, can they?”

“No,” she agrees.

“I don’t see why so many people think it’s wrong, or whatever,” he continues, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear as it falls in front of her eyes. Kate likes how he does it absent mindedly – like it’s become something he’s used to doing. “I mean, I don’t have two soul mates, and I don’t know anyone who does, or anyone who is one of the two soul mates. But it doesn’t seem like they can choose.”

“Exactly,” Kate beams. “Obviously, I’ve seen the stories – Victoria Asher, and others.”

“I’ve read some,” Jon says. “They’re interesting. But I don’t think that differently of anyone who does have two soul mates. Or I don’t think I would.”

“I wouldn’t,” Kate tries to subtly scoot a little closer to him. He’s only about six inches away, but she wants him closer. “They can’t help it, like you said. None of them can.”

He smirks at her. “Trying to insinuate something here?”

Well, maybe her edging closer to him wasn’t as subtle as she wanted. She blushes.

He smiles at her. “You’re cute when you blush.”

As if on cue, she blushes again.

Over the past two weeks, she’s probably spent more time at Jon’s house than her own. Her mother doesn’t question where she goes after school, and doesn’t question why she sometimes doesn’t get home until nine o’clock or later. Kate suspects she’s too busy with work and worrying over her father to notice.

“God,” Jon says, his voice dropping to a whisper. “I want you.”

Kate is pretty sure her face turns scarlet. She gives up all pretenses and just hides her face in Jon’s chest, feeling a mix of lust and want and embarrassment and fear.

“I want you, too,” she whispers back, the words almost lost in the cloth of his t-shirt.

She can feel him smile against her hair. She can hear the beating of his heart and feel his warm breath against her skin and he smells like sort of like pancakes and leather, a weirdly attractive combination and she doesn’t know if she’ll ever get any happier.

And when he kisses her, she realizes she can.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hmm yes this story isn't quite finished yet but i have a loot written so ill try and post all of it pretty quickly. i hope you guys like it!! :)


	3. Chapter 3

“God,” Geordie says one afternoon. It’s only three days till Christmas and it still hasn’t snowed. “I’m so done with Troye’s shit.”

“Isn’t he gay?” Kate asks absently.

Geordie turns around to glare at her. “He is  _ not.” _

Kate raises one eyebrow skeptically but doesn’t say anything else against it. Geordie will realize it soon, what with the way Troye obviously stares at other guys with lust painted all over his face.

Though, Kate supposes, there isn’t really anything like “straight” and “gay” anymore. She’s sure there was some time, but with soul mates, you never really know who your soul mates are going to be.

Of course, there are those people (like Troye) who are so obviously only interested in men. It’s a wonder Geordie hasn’t already seen it.

“So how are you and Jon?” Geordie asks, taking a loud sip from her milkshake.

“Good,” Kate says, refusing the urge to gush about how perfect he is.

Geordie stares at her. “God, you are so whipped. And so is Jon, I saw him the other day at the gas station and he was just totally gone. Wouldn’t shut up about you the whole time we were talking.”

Kate beams and bites her lip. “Is that a bad thing?”

“Well,” the older girl tilts her head. “In a way, aren’t all relationships before your soul mate kind of a bad idea? Like it’s just going to end in pain.”

“Not necessarily,” Kate argues. “Everyone knows that if they date someone who isn’t their soul mate, they have to break up eventually.”

“What if you didn’t,” Geordie says abruptly. “What if you just chose to stay with someone? Like, what if you said to your soul mate “no, I’m not being with you”?”

Kate shrugs. “I don’t know.”

“I hate them,” Geordie announces. “I hate soul mates.” She glares at the letters on her wrist, the murky green “ _ mich”  _ there.

Kate almost wants to agree – when she’s with Jon, she feels like the dark brown “ _ ry”  _ is taunting her, reminding her that maybe this isn’t as happy as she could be. She wants to get rid of the words, wants to hide them so she can’t see them anymore.

“It’s not their faults,” Kate says reasonably. “They might not want to meet their soul mate as much as we do. You don’t really get a choice.”

“But you  _ do,”  _ Geordie says, sounding frustrated. “You get a choice. You can choose not to be with someone.”

Deciding it’s not worth arguing over, Kate just nods and changes the subject.

But Geordie’s words replay in her head next time she’s with Jon.

 

Christmas day, her father isn’t home.

Kate fights hard to keep the disappointment off her face and she thinks she succeeds. Her mother looks so fragile, it hurts to look at.

There are presents underneath the tree and they open them together. No one mentions the pile of gifts for her father, sitting there. There’s dust on them. Kate doesn’t want to make the calculations on how long it’s been since he’s been back.

Later that day, her father calls. She almost cries when she hears his voice over the phone.     

“Hey sweetheart,” he says. “I’m sorry I wasn’t home.”

“Where were you?” She asks, biting her lower lip.

She hears him sigh. “Just… business stuff.”

In the background, a woman’s asks “Who are you talking to?”

“My daughter,” he says. Kate swallows hard. “Listen,” he says, more to her, now. “I’ve got to go. I’ll call you later, okay?”

She nods, then remember he can’t see her. “Okay,” she replies, staring down at her hand on the table.

“Say hi to your mother for me.”

He hangs up. Kate slowly lowers the phone, staring at the pile of presents under the tree.

“Was that your father?” Her mother asks, coming into the kitchen.

Kate nods. “He says hi.”

Her mother pulls out a chair and sits next to her. “Did he say when he was coming home?”

Kate shakes her head. “No, he didn’t.”

They sit in silence for a moment before Kate turns to face her. “Mom, aren’t soul mates not supposed to fight?”

Her mother smiles, a bitter edge to it. “All couples fight. Soul mates or not.”

_ Is your soul mate supposed to leave?  _ She wants to ask, but doesn’t. Her mother’s hands are shaking again.

Kate pushes her chair back and leaves her mother there, heading up the stairs to her room. As she looks out the window, she notices a solitary white snowflake drifting to the ground. Soon it’s joined by others, and then it’s  _ snowing  _ and without a second thought, she calls Geordie.

“What?” Geordie says when she answers.

“Well, merry Christmas to you too,” Kate grins. “It’s snowing!”

There’s a little bit of a clatter from the phone line, and then she hears Geordie’s startled intake of breath.

“Oh my god,” Kate can hear the smile in her voice. “It’s so  _ pretty.” _

“I know,” Kate says in the same hushed whisper.

They spend a while like that, staring out at the snow as it drifts gently to the ground. Kate thinks about how she’s more comfortable on the phone with Geordie than her father.

“I think my dad is cheating on my mom,” she says abruptly.

A sigh crackles through the speaker. “Oh, Kate,” is all Geordie says, her voice sad. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not sure,” she says hurriedly, picking her nail. “I just… he wasn’t home today, and there was a woman with him when I called him. It doesn’t mean anything.” When Geordie doesn’t say anything, Kate says quickly, an edge of desperation in her voice. “Soul mates don’t cheat on each other, right?”

Geordie sighs again. “Kate…” Her voice is full of sympathy.

“No,” Kate says adamantly. “I just… I was worried. But they’re soul mates. He wouldn’t do that.”

When Geordie doesn’t say anything else, she hangs up.

 

It’s a little weird, Kate thinks, that none of her friends (all four of them) mix with each other.

Katie and Patrick never hang out with her and Geordie, and Geordie only sees Jon at parties (or at least, that’s what Kate gathered). It’s probably for the best,  though, she decides. They wouldn’t really fit.

“So,” Jon begins. It’s December 29 th , and there’s snow all over the ground, still. “There’s a New Year’s party. D’you want to come?”

“Here?” She asks, rolling over on the bed to face him. It seems like most of their days are spent in bed. Not always having sex, either, but just talking. It’s more comfortable than chairs or anything, she supposes. Though sometimes, Jon will make her food to try, since apparently he’s taking a cooking class. She might like those more than the bed days, actually. There’s something almost more intimate about it, watching Jon concentrate on what he’s cooking, his tongue poking out of his mouth.

“Yeah,” Jon says, smiling at her. “It’ll probably be just like the last one.”

“Sure,” she says. Suddenly, she wishes she could tell him she has to ask her mother, but honestly, she knows her mother won’t care what she’s doing. It hurts, a little bit, somewhere in Kate’s stomach. “Yeah, I’ll come.”

“Cool,” Jon smiles. His head is on her stomach, and she’s absently running her hands through his almost fluffy hair.

After fifteen minutes more of drowsy talking, Jon suddenly shoots up. “Hey, I have a new recipe!”

So then they head down to the kitchen, and as she sits on the counter, resisting the urge to kick her legs back and forth like a little kid, she wonders how she got so lucky.

Jon is humming something to himself as he fills a pot with water and puts it on the stove, and grabs spices off the shelf. As he’s cracking eggs into a bowl, he turns and smiles at her.

“So how is school?”

She tilts her head. “Pretty okay.”

“How is algebra?” He asks. She smiles – she had mentioned she was having trouble with it a while ago, and he hasn’t forgotten.

“It’s been alright.”

Maybe he hears the uncertainty in her voice, because he turns and leans against the counter. “I can’t say I’m any kind of math genius, but I remember liking algebra. Geometry, not so much, but I can help you, if you want.”

She smiles at him. “Okay. I’m not having that hard of a time, I just don’t understand it that much.”

“Okay,” Jon says, turning back to stir something. “Tomorrow, do you want to go over it?”

“Sure,” she agrees, giving up pretenses and kicking her legs back and forth. Patrick’s recently given her all of his older sister’s knee socks, and she has to admit, she loves them.

“Alright,” Jon dusts off his hands. “Now I have to wait for it to boil. I wonder what will happen between now and then.”

She laughs and he strolls over and stands between her legs, placing his hands on the counter by her thighs.

Kissing Jon is something Kate will never, ever get tired of. His lips are unbelievably soft and they have the slightest taste of hot chocolate.

His hands, having moved from the counter to rest on her thighs, are undeniably warm and his hair is soft underneath her fingers. At the moment, there’s no one she would have over Jon.

They kiss for a while longer, before the pot starts to boil.

Jon pulls away. “Damn it. We’ll continue this in a minute.”

She smiles and watches as he finishes up whatever he’s cooking.

“Okay!” He announces, spinning around to face her with a spoon of something in his hand. “Try it.”

She takes the spoon and carefully tries the sauce.

“This is really, really good,” she tells him.

“Really?” Jon asks anxiously. “Does it need more salt?”

She tries it again, thoughtfully. “No, I don’t think so. It might actually need a little pepper.”

He nods to himself. “Right. Pepper.”

She nods. He comes back to stand between her legs again. “Now, where were we?”

 

The party is insanely crowded.

Kate pushes through the bodies, trying not to step on anyone’s toes. The smell of what she now knows is marijuana is cloying the air, along with sweat and alcohol.

How Jon can stand this, Kate isn’t sure. It’s making her sneeze.

But, she admits, she’s been kind of… craving that feeling she got when she was high and drunk, that feeling of  _ forgetting.  _ She wants to feel it again, wants to forget to worry about slipping up, or making a mistake, or how she looks, and most of all, the burning feeling that maybe, maybe the reason her father leaving is because of  _ her. _

“Babe!” Jon exclaims, pushing his way past a boy with fire engine red hair. With a start, Kate realizes it’s Gerard, the boy Katie has a crush on.

“Hey,” she shouts over the music.

“Come on,” he tells her, grabbing her hand and pulling her through the crowd to the room with pale green walls.

Once again, there’s a circle of people, and the air is thick with smoke.

“Do you want to have some?” Jon asks, making a gesture towards the pipe.

Kate tilts her head, and hesitates even though she knows she’ll say yes. “Sure.”

So her and Jon join the circle, and just as she’s closing the door to the room, she sees a boy.

He’s leaning against the wall in the hallway, a red plastic cup in hand. His hair is dark, so dark it’s almost his black. His skin is pale and his lips are obviously bitten, to the point that they are red.

She feels her heart stop.

He’s so  _ beautiful.  _ Kate can’t stop staring at him. She doesn’t want to. Her skin is hot, so hot, but not in an unpleasant way. There’s something dark opening up in her chest, something dark and warm and wanting.

She wants the boy, so badly it hurts.

“What are you looking at?” Jon asks, closing the door for her.

She ters her eyes away from the boy and quickly turns to smile at him. “Nothing, nothing. Let’s do this.” When she looks back, he’s gone.

They sit down in the circle, and though Jon’s arm is around her, that’s not why her heart is beating so hard. All she can think about is the boy, the boy from the car and rain, only this time she got to see him better. Her thoughts are unclear, clouded feeling. She feels like she’s drunk, only this time it’s easier to think.

The pipe is passed to her and she inhales deeply, one, twice, three times. The boy is still in her thoughts and when her wrist tingles, and the letters “ _ rya”  _ are now there, she isn’t that surprised.

“You got another letter?” Jon asks. His breathe smells like the smoke.

She nods. “It looks like it.”

“It’s ‘Ryan’,” he grins. “I know it.”

She nods again, because honestly, she isn’t sure if there’s any other name it could be at this point.

But her thoughts aren’t on her soul mate, or Jon. They’re still focused on the boy with the dark hair and red bitten lips, who’s only about eight feet away from her.

By the time Jon suggests they stop smoking, Kate’s fingertips are tingling and she is incredibly hungry. Jon’s skin feels like satin again and she feels relaxed. Her father hasn’t entered her thoughts once.

“What do you have to do to get food around here?” She demands to Jon in a loud whisper.

He laughs at her. “Come with me.”

So she follows him outside, past the lawn they first kissed at and down the road.

“There’s a diner right on the corner,” he tells her.          

And there is. The sign is glowing in the night, and there’s snow resting gently on top of it.

“I’m starving,” Kate exclaims, running forward. She promptly slips on the snow and falls down.

“You okay?” Jon asks, bending down and helping her up. His hands are steady, and sometimes, Kate wonders if Jon isn’t as high as everyone thinks.

“Mmm,” she hums, leaning on him. They cross the street – traffic is nonexistent at this time of night.     Just as they’re nearing the sidewalk on the other side, snow starts to fall.

Kate can’t resist throwing her arms out and spinning around under the quickly gathering flakes like a little kid. She feels like she can’t do anything wrong. Everything is right tonight. As long as she doesn’t stop feeling this way, everything will always be right.

Jon laughs at her and takes her hand. “Alright, Snow White, c’mon and let’s get some food.”

She lets him lead her into the shop. It’s brightly lit, and the booths that line the aisle are adorable.

“I didn’t know there was a place like this,” she says in awe. This is probably the best place she’s ever been (later, she’ll return to the diner and see the way the floors are dusty, that seats are cracked, the waitresses look dead tired. She blames it on the alcohol).

“It’s cute,” Jon says, smiling at her.

They sit down at one of the booths and Jon orders food for them. Kate doesn’t mind. She feels like she usually would, but that thought is faraway, hard to reach right now.

“Do you…” Jon struggles with the words. His eyes close before he opens them again. “Are you… Kate, I know you’re young.”

It’s not surprising, Kate decides, that her wonderful, wonderful high is fading. She’s sad to see it go. Everything is so much better with it.

At the mention of her age, though, she feels a trickle of fear. She doesn’t know where this is going.

“I just…” Jon sighs, rubbing his hand on his face, something Kate has noticed he does when he’s upset. “I never thought I’d be a person to date someone so much younger than me –“

“Four years isn’t that bad,” Kate cuts in.

“You’re right,” he says. “It’s not. But right now, it is. Twenty and sixteen is probably the worse age difference. Seventeen and twenty-one is better. Hell, eighteen and fourteen is better. But twenty and sixteen is just… it sounds bad.”

Kate shifts.

“But I don’t…” Jon continues. “I don’t  _ want  _ to end this, even though I should. Even though you’re sixteen and you shouldn’t be in this kind of life. I don’t want to lose you. And that’s wrong of me. I’m the responsible one in this relationship. If this all breaks apart, I’ll be the one going to jail. But… it’s worth it. For  _ you,  _ it’s worth it.”

Kate blushes and leans forward and kisses him, softly and sweetly, before pulling back. “I don’t want to end it, either.”

They smile at each other.

 

That morning, at 5:34 am, Kate is laying in Jon’s bed, his arms around her as the sun starts to rise and the letters  _ “ryan”  _ inscribe themselves on her wrist.

 

_ This can’t be happening. _

Kate’s standing in the living room. She had been with Jon – it was a laying in bed all day kind of day. He had made her coffee.

_ This can’t be happening. _

The hardwood floor makes a soft sound against her shoes when she walks. The light in the living room is a soft, golden yellow.

_ This can’t be happening. _

She needs to take a shower. Her hair feels greasy, and there’s dirt on her hands from when she fell on the way home. The skin was scraped off, just a little. It stings.

_ This can’t be happening. _

Her mother is in the doorway to the kitchen. Her eyes are open wide, staring at nothing. There’s an orange bottle in her hand and there’s three pills in it.

Three.

Kate can’t breathe but somehow she’s picking up the pill bottle, reading it. There’s supposed to be thirty pills in a box.

Her mother took twenty seven.

Kate’s hands are shaking so hard the pill bottle falls to the ground and bounces a few times before laying still. Her mother’s hair is spread out across the kitchen floor, dark in the bright light. Her eyes, the color of Kate’s almost exactly, a dark hazel, are blank. Gone.

She isn’t sure how she’s able to dial the numbers, only that sometime soon, Katie’s with her and then more people and then her mother’s body is taken away (Kate’s mind screams  _ I didn’t even get to say goodbye  _ but a rational part of her knows there’s nothing in the body, not anymore) and then someone says “Suicide” and Kate wants to cry because there’s no way her mother committed suicide. It can’t be. How could you want to die that much?

Katie is next to her, and that’s all she’s aware of at this point. Somehow, she got to a couch and the Christmas tree is still up, for some reason. It’s dying.  They always delay taking it down as long as they can – Kate’s mother once said that it felt like Christmas as long as you kept the tree up.

And so they hadn’t taken it down, not even now, even though it was nearing February.

For some reason, Kate can’t even cry. It feels so far away. It seems completely impossible that her mother can be dead. Her mind keeps rejecting the thought, fighting against it like it’s a disease.

She can’t think. She can’t cry. It’s like her body is frozen.

In her mind, the image of her mother’s green blue eyes is stuck.

 

Sometime, she wakes up.

She doesn’t remember falling asleep. Kate supposes it doesn’t matter, not that much.

She doesn’t go to school for a couple of days, and the only person she sees during this time, that even later on, still feels all gray to her, is Katie and Patrick.

They talk to her and she talks back. It’s all almost normal and that’s what scares Kate the most. That her mother is  _ dead  _ and her life still feels relatively normal.

Well. Not quite normal. Not really.

There’s no food in the oven, there’s no call of “dinner!” at six thirty sharp, her mother isn’t sitting at the kitchen table in the mornings, her hand curled around a cup of coffee. There’s nothing but empty rooms and people telling her to hold on. Whatever that means, Kate isn’t sure. There’s nothing to hold on  _ to. _

Katie and Patrick are always there – Patrick is even allowed to spend the night, which he never had been before (“It’s not that I don’t trust you,” her mother had said. “It’s just, have you s _ een  _ the way Katie and Patrick look at each other?”).

Now that her mother’s gone, Kate actually pays attention to what she pointed out. And she’s right. Patrick looks at Katie, his eyes lit up like the sun, and when she thinks he’s not looking, Katie looks at Patrick with her pink in her cheeks and her mouth closed tightly, as if she’s holding back all the words she wants to say.

When Kate thinks about it, she can’t think of anyone better for each other. Of course, the “ _ spenc”  _ in sky blue is still on Katie’s wrist, and the “ _ pet”  _ in light, creamy brown is still on Patrick’s but then again, maybe you’re supposed to try to have as much as much good in life as you can before it gets taken away.

Weeks pass.

They have the funeral. It’s on a cloudy day and everyone is wearing black. Kate’s dad is there, and Kate wants to scream at him that this is  _ his  _ fault, it’s  _ his  _ fault she doesn’t have a mother anymore. She isn’t sure if she’ll ever forgive him.

On the way home from the funeral, the skies open up and it rains so hard Kate’s skin hurts. The remnants of the snow on the ground are pelted away.

She opens up the door and hurries inside. Katie’s mother, who had been staying with Kate since her mother died, is napping on the couch. Kate walks by and into her mother’s room.

The bed isn’t made. Kate supposes she didn’t make it when she… did it. She collapses on the covers and closes her eyes.

Even now, even when the hurt that’s locked up inside her is reaching tsunami levels, she can’t cry. Her eyes remain dry, even though that’s all she wants to do. Cry, that is.

So she just lays there, under the blankets, her eyes wide open. Her mother’s phone is on the bedside table.

Kate’s eyes are starting to drift close when her mother’s phone starts to ring. She sits up sleepily, grabbing at it. The call just reads an 800 number, but when she hits “decline” button, the last thing her mother had open pops up.

It’s an email. From her father.

Certain words pop up as she skims it.  _ Leaving you… I’m sorry… Not you… Don’t tell Kate, please… _

The phone falls from Kate’s hands and hits the floor with a clatter. Her father was  _ leaving.  _ It  _ was  _ his fault.

She closes her eyes again. She can’t tell if she’s angry or hurt or betrayed or all three. Probably all three. It’s a burning kind of feeling, like she’s failed, somehow. It’s making its way up her knees, to her thighs, her stomach. Her whole body just feels tired.

She falls asleep on her mother’s bed and almost wishes she wouldn’t wake up.

 

The first time she sees Jon after it all happens, he hugs her so tight she thinks her ribs might get crushed.

“Oh my  _ god,”  _ he whispers into her hair, his voice choked with some emotion Kate can’t place. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry, sweetheart.”

She hugs him back tightly, and for the first time since it happened, she feels a little bit better. His arms are warm and he smells like pancakes and something else, something homely.

For the first time, she wonders if maybe home isn’t always a place.

All day, Jon just holds her in his bed, and when they have sex, it’s something comforting and real.

Afterwards, his head is on her hipbone and she’s drawing her fingers through his hair lazily. She feels pleasantly sweaty.

“I love you,” Jon says suddenly, his voice breaking the comfortable silence. He moves his head to look at her.

She stares back at him. “I love you, too.”

He smiles that perfect, perfect smile at her and then presses his cheek against her hip again. It’s an incredibly intimate position, Kate thinks. She can feel the slight prickle of his stubble against her skin and the warmth of his breath on her thighs.

She closes her eyes and for the first time since it happened, she sleeps peacefully.

 

Slowly, as the months creep by, the freshness of her mother’s death fades. It’s still sharp in her mind, and she still feels like there’s a hole in her chest whenever she sees her mother’s bedroom. The image of her mother, lying on the kitchen floor, with the sinister red pills next to her, haunts her while she sleeps.

But she spends her days at school, and her afternoons with Katie or Patrick or Jon, and it’s sunny and sometimes it’s rainy and the only time the hole in her chest feels lighter is when she’s with Jon, sitting in a café or just on the sidewalk or walking home in the rain. It doesn’t matter where.

Somehow, Kate’s been able to avoid going to the sea for the last two years (which is an achievement, considering Gig Harbor is almost nothing but sea) and when Jon asks her if she wants to go, she says yes eagerly.

It’s late April, and the beach is cold. The wind whips through the sand with ferocity, and Kate wraps her coat tightly around her, leaning against Jon’s side.

There’s something barren about the beach during winter, Kate thinks. It looks lonely.

She bends down and dips her fingers into the water.

“Wow,” she says, withdrawing them. “It’s cold.”

“You don’t say,” Jon snorts. She rolls her eyes at him and they walk for a little while longer, hands entwined.

She likes to think about what people see when they look at them. Jon, his coffee colored hair getting slightly too long and curling out at the edges, his powder blue eyes squinting from the wind and his hand in hers. Kate, her dark brown hair down her back, messy from the wind and that goofy, so-in-love smile.

She wonders if they think they’re soul mates.

Of course, there’s no one on the beach except them, and so when Jon kisses her, pressing her against a tree, she has no qualms about it.

Jon’s lips are something magical, Kate figures later, when they’re on their way home and he’s driving, his eyes focused on the road.

“Hey,” he says, smiling at her quickly. “There’s a party at my place on Saturday. D’you wanna come?”

She says yes and feels ashamed that the first thing that pops into her mind is the boy with red bitten lips and pale skin.

 

The party is the same as the two before it – smoky, loud, and sweaty. This time, Kate goes straight to the kitchen and pours herself a drink.

The alcohol burns her throat but she welcomes it, knowing that soon, it’ll fill her with that pleasant warmth, the lovely forgetfulness.

Jon looks at her, smiling slightly. “Starting early, hmm?”

She scowls at him. “It’s seven o’clock. I see no reason on waiting.”

He shrugs and helps himself to a drink as well. Kate takes his hand, feeling better already. She feels more confident  - like nothing can go wrong, not tonight.

The room with pale green walls is as smoky as it usually is. The smell of pot has stopped smelling so unpleasant to Kate, and she almost likes it.

As usual, Trevor is there, and Kate is surprised to see Geordie in his lap, her hair cut short now. Kate hasn’t seen her in almost three months and she feels a surprising pain of nostalgia. She misses Geordie.

“Kate!” Geordie beams. “Hey!”

“Hey,” Kate smiles, taking another sip from her cup.

And that’s all.

That Kate can remember, that is. She wakes up the next morning, curled up in a ball in Jon’s bed.

Jon is snoring loudly, and Kate has an incredibly painful headache.

“Jon,” she whispers, poking him. “Jon!”

He sighs a little and opens his eyes. “What?”

“Where’s the Advil?”

Jon closes his eyes again and lets out a little laugh. “Bedside table, angel.”

She nods and lets him go back to sleep as she snatches the bottle and downs four, swallowing a mouthful of water with them.

She glances at Jon, who had quickly fallen back asleep, his arms stretched over his head and the hem of his t-shirt riding up to reveal his side.

Kate smiles to herself and puts the Advil away, crawling back to join him and falling asleep again.

 

When she wakes up, it’s noon and the sun is hot on her stomach.

“Morning,” smiles Jon. He’s next to her, his head propped up on one hand. “You’re cute when you’re sleeping.”

Kate sighs sleepily and nestles back down. “I can’t remember anything,” she tells Jon, her voice muffled by the pillow.

He laughs. “I wouldn’t be surprised. You got pretty drunk.”

“Oh god,” she sits up, staring at him. “I didn’t do anything embarrassing, did I?”

Jon frowns. “Well, you did tell Ryan he was pretty but besides that, no.”

At the mention of that name –  _ Ryan –  _ her wrist tingles just a little and an image of the boy with red bitten lips and dark hair flashes through her mind.

“Ugh,” she moans, lying back down again. “I don’t even know who Ryan is.”

Which is a lie. But for some reason, she doesn’t want to think about it. She doesn’t want to think about how Ryan could be her soul mate, how the boy she saw that day in the rain could be who she spends forever with.

She especially doesn’t want to think about it when she’s lying next to Jon, her boyfriend and the boy she loves. It doesn’t matter that Ryan’s eyes makes her feel like she’s burning in the best kind of way. It doesn’t matter.  _ It doesn’t matter. _

But as much as she repeats it in her head, he won’t leave her thoughts.

“Oh god,” Kate repeats.

“Hey, hey,” Jon says softly, his hand rubbing soft circles into her lower back. “You didn’t do anything that bad. And plus, Ryan’s a cool guy, he didn’t think much of it.”

She doesn’t know how to tell Jon that that’s not why she doesn’t want to look at him. She’s afraid that if she does, all she’ll see is those dark brown eyes instead of Jon’s blue ones.

“It’s okay,” Kate finally looks up. Jon’s familiar, blue eyes are there. “I’m fine.”

“Did you like it?” He asks.

“Like what?”

“How you felt last night. You were pretty drunk Kate. I don’t think people get that drunk for no reason.”

She closes her eyes and scoots a little closer to him. “I just… I wanted to forget.”

And this is when the aching hole in her chest opens up again, feeling like it’s been caught on fire, as she remembers she’ll never see her mother again. She wants to cry, but once again she can’t. Her eyes refuse to water.

“I know,” Jon kisses her forehead, softly, lovingly. “I know you do.”

When Jon offers her a smoke that day, Kate takes it and inhales deeply, letting the smoke burn her lungs in a way that’s physical, not the gaping pool of hurt she knows is with her all the time. She lets it hurt her because for about five seconds, it gets rid of that. The other hurt, the worse hurt.

Maybe now is when she realizes she’s in danger of something (“ _ Addictive personality,”  _ her father used to say) but she doesn’t try to stop it. She doesn’t really want to, not anymore.

 

And so it starts.

Every day she goes over to Jon’s, he offers her something – a beer, his pipe (“Got it in Mexico,” he said proudly one day) and it becomes so easy, so, so easy.

It’s easy to forget the hole in her chest when she’s sitting on Jon’s kitchen counter, watching him cook while she breathes in the now familiar smoke. It’s easy to forget her house is cold and empty when that warm, pleasant buzz of alcohol is going through her. It’s easy. So easy.

Sometimes, when she looks up when Jon thinks she’s distracted, she notices a glint in Jon’s eyes, like maybe the image of her, sitting on his counter in her knee socks and smoking a cigarette (“You can try one,” Jon had said, offering her one) is maybe more attractive to him than he’d care to admit.

Kate doesn’t mind that. She likes feeling sexy, likes the way his eyes linger on her when she wraps her lips around the pipe, or how his hand touches her knee almost roughly when she blows out cigarette smoke.

( _ This is a bad idea,  _ a voice that sounds like Katie’s sometimes whispers in the back of her mind.  _ You shouldn’t be doing this.  _ She usually pushes it aside).

One day, before she heads over to Jon, she runs into her father.

Usually, their schedules don’t coincide. He’s at work all day, and she gets out of school at two and then Jon picks her up, usually, and she doesn’t get home till seven or later and goes straight to her room.

He’s sitting at the kitchen table, reading the newspaper. On his wrists is the letters “ _ colleen”  _ in the hazel of her mother’s eyes.

Kate’s fists clench. She closes her eyes for a moment, before walking past him and to the door.

“Oh, hey Kit Kat,” her father says to her.

She doesn’t respond and slams the door behind her.

 

On a Saturday afternoon, Katie and Patrick tell Kate they’re dating.

Kate beams at them. Their hands are entwined and they keep sneaking looks at each other when one thinks the other isn’t looking. It’s the cutest thing Kate has ever seen, and the contrast of Patrick’s light strawberry blonde hair and Katie’s dark is beautiful.

They are so caught up in each other, and Kate hopes they don’t notice the shadows under her eyes. She tried as much concealer as she could to cover them but they were still noticeable.

It’s just been much harder for her to sleep at night. She isn’t sure why – it’s just been that way. She always wakes up in the middle of the night, almost every hour and sometimes can’t fall back asleep. The light of the moon on her blankets has become a familiar sight.

In May, she meets Michael.

Michael has hair he dyes far too much and murky green eyes. His smile is probably equivalent to the sun and his hands are actually very nice hands. He has a voice that reminds her of forests and streams and other pretty things and on his wrist is the words “ _ geordi”. _

They sit on the edge of the sidewalk. Michael has a habit for wearing big sweaters, Kate has noticed. Every time she’s seen him, he’s been wearing them.

“So what’s she like?” He asks.

Kate sighs, staring at the pavement. “How to describe Geordie… she’s kind of bitchy, a little condescending, very pretty and she likes to party.”

“I hate her,” Michael declares.

Kate laughs. “I used to have a crush on her.”

“Did you guys date?” He asks.

She shakes her head. “No, I don’t think Geordie ever thought of me that way.”

She wants to say something about how Geordie is the person who got her into this life, this life she never thought she’d have, one where she smokes cigarettes and dates guys too old for her.

“Oh,” Michael sighs, his shoulders slumping. “Kate, I’m scared.”

“It’s okay,” she tells him, thinking of Ryan. The boy with dark eyes and darker hair. “It’s perfectly alright. I’m afraid, too.”

He smiles at her hesitantly. “Do you think we’ll be a good match?”

She thinks about him, Michael, and how he’s one of the sweetest people she’s ever met and how he eats brownies nonstop and calls his mother once a day and likes books like Jane Eyre.

She thinks of Geordie, and how she’s kind if mean and how she loves onion rings and says she hates her parents on a daily basis and hates books but likes movies like  _ The Grand Budapest Hotel. _

“Yes,” Kate says.

“Really?” Michael asks, his face lighting up.

She almost wants to tell him how in the end, it doesn’t seem to matter if you’re soul mates or not, that any love is as strong as any other love and how her father still left her mother for someone else even though each other’s names were tattooed on their wrists and how her mother couldn’t live with the pain.

But she doesn’t.

“Of course,” she says, smiling.

Michael beams at her and turns back to face the street. It’s cloudy out, which is depressingly usual.

“So do you have a boyfriend?” He asks.

Kate nods. “Yeah. His name is Jon.”

“Is he cute?”

“I’d say so.”

They sit in silence for a while, staring at the gray pavement and the gray sky. It’s going to rain soon. Kate can tell.

“God,” Michael says. “It rains a lot here, doesn’t it?”

“I forgot you just moved here. Yeah, it does. Fun, huh?”

He turns, looking at her. “Do you not like it here?”

She shrugs. “It’s alright.”

They sit in silence until Michael leaves.

 


	4. Chapter 4

“How many have you had today?”  Jon asks, his voice a little concerned.

Kate shrugs, blowing the smoke out from between her lips. “I don’t know. A lot.”

His brow wrinkles. “Maybe you should… slow down.”

She wants to explain to him that the regularity of this, the cigarettes between her lips and the slight burn of the smoke, is the thing she actually likes in this life. She knows for a fact that cigarettes won’t stop existing, won’t  _ commit suicide,  _ won’t leave.

But instead, she shrugs. “Maybe.”

Jon just looks at her and sighs. “Okay, whatever.”

Sometimes, she wonders what made her decide to start this, the smoking and the drinking and the sex (not that sex is necessarily a bad thing) but some part of her knows that everything else is. Bad, that is.

And Jon’s starting to think it too, she thinks. She can see the worried look in his eyes sometimes and the way he sometimes questions if she’s smoked too much in one day. Usually, he’s right. Kate starts feeling dizzy sometimes, and when she stumbles, he’s usually there to catch her.

Katie and Patrick have been noticing, too. Their eyes linger on the shadows under her eyes, the way she coughs more, now, the kind of coughing that hurts her ribs and burns her throat.

Katie and Patrick are inseparable now, which Kate thinks is cute. Sometimes, though, she wishes they hadn’t ended up together. Not because she doesn’t want them to be happy - actually, she doesn’t know why she sometimes thinks that.

(It’s because she wants to be saved).

Sometime in June, Katie and Patrick meet Jon and Patrick and Jon get along splendidly, talking nonstop about music and guitar stuff Kate doesn’t really understand.

Her and Katie stand back and talk while Patrick and Jon are busy bonding, and Kate says something like, “Man, I really need a cigarette right now,” and watches the shock unfold on Katie’s face.

“What,” Katie struggles to say, her eyes wide. “Do you smoke?”

Kate shrugs like it’s not a big deal. “Yeah. I’m not addicted or anything, though.”

Katie looks at her, and Kate doesn’t like the look in her eyes. Like she doesn’t recognize her, like a stranger has replaced Kate.

Before Katie can say anything else, Jon comes up and rests his chin on Kate’s head. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Kate replies, leaning back into his arms a little bit.

Patrick slips his hand into Katie’s and smiles at her and suddenly, Kate wishes she had something like that. There is nothing wrong with Katie and Patrick whatsoever, there is nothing dark to it, no kind of probably wrong lust that mainly fuels Jon and hers relationship.

Katie and Patrick leave and she leaves with them, kissing Jon’s cheek goodbye before following them out the door.

“Hey,” Patrick slows down to walk next to her. “Katie says you’re smoking?”

As if on cue, Kate starts to cough and it takes a minute before she can speak. “Not so much. I don’t smoke much, I promise.”

Patrick looks worried. “Are you… doing anything else?”

Sometimes, Kate looks back on this moment and kind of sees it as something that changed everything. If she had said “yes”,  maybe they could have helped and maybe things wouldn’t have gotten so bad. Maybe things would have been a lot different.

But Kate shakes her head. “No, and I don’t smoke that much, really. Not even a cigarette a day.”

Which is a lie – she smokes at least two a day, and that’s a minimum .

They nod, looking relieved and Kate thinks of red plastic cups and the room with pale green walls and feels like she might cry.

 

Jon is driving her home when the car crash happens.

In retrospect, she’s lucky nothing really happened.

When she wakes up after Jon hits the truck, her body feels a little numb and her forehead hurts.

“You’re awake!” Patrick exclaims from next to her.

She turns her head and smiles weakly at her best friends.

“We were worried,” Katie says, looking relieved. “The nurse said you’d wake up soon, but…”

Kate wants to ask what happened, but she knows. When they left his house, Jon had insisted he was completely sober, but she knew he had been drinking. There wasn’t anything wrong with waiting to drive, Kate had thought. They could just wait until the alcohol wore off.

But Jon had insisted and eventually, she gave up. He probably could gage how drunk he was better than she could, right?

And now she was lying in a hospital bed.

“How bad is it?” She asks.

Patrick bites his lip. “You have a cut across your forehead, and they said your arm was sprained or something. And there’s some bruises on your thighs.”

Kate sighs heavily, resting her head against the pillow and closing her eyes. She wants to cry. “Is Jon okay?”

“Yeah,” Katie nods. “Actually, there’s barely a scratch on him. You definitely got the worst of it.”

She relaxes more when she hears Jon is okay. She doesn’t know what she would have done if he hadn’t been. If he had been hurt badly or, even worse – she shudders –  _ died. _

The door opens, and Kate’s father comes in.

Kate freezes.

He smiles at her. “I’m glad you’re awake.”

She nods, not meeting his eyes. The email on her mother’s phone is running through her head, the email that ruined everything.

She can see the hazel letters of her mother’s name on his wrist and she feels like she might throw up.

“So…” her father begins, smiling teasingly. “Is Jon your boyfriend?”

Kate feels almost angry that he’s smiling. His daughter has just gotten into a car crash because her now twenty-one year old boyfriend was too drunk to drive. He should hate Jon, he should be threatening to get a gun and telling her she has to break up with him right now. She wants him to be worried, at least a little bit.

“Yes,” she says. “He’s twenty-one.”

She hopes that he’ll say something like “break up with him right now”. The laws for age differences are incredibly blurry – because soul mates often have an age difference and really, once they meet each other, it’s hard to keep away.

Of course, soul mates don’t usually meet each other until they’re older. The letter don’t appear on your skin the closer you get to meeting them – they appear on your skin, based on how long it will be until you fall in love with them and realize they’re your soul mate.

Kate’s know best friends who didn’t know they were soul mates until they were sixteen, and some who didn’t know until they were almost thirty.

Soul mates or no, though, the age of consent is sixteen for sex. Of course, her father won’t know they’ve had sex. She hopes, not at least.

“That’s good,” her father says. “I always thought you’d need someone more mature to help you out.”

Kate clenches her fists under the hospital blankets and wants to scream at him. He was two years older than her mother but it was obvious she was the more mature one.

Katie and Patrick look uncomfortable but Katie says, “Kate’s tired, I think. She should sleep.”

Kate’s father nods and Kate sends her best friend a thankful look.

When he finally leaves and the door closes behind him, Kate turns to look at them.

“I  _ hate  _ him.”

“I know,” Patrick says, taking her hand. “I know.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Jon says for probably the nineteenth time.

“I’m fine!” Kate snaps, turning around to glare at him.

Jon hadn’t stopped apologizing for five seconds ever since Kate got out of the hospital. There’s was a bandage over her forehead and the doctor had said any scar it left would be light.

“I can’t believe this,” Jon continues, ignoring her. “Oh my god. I can’t believe I did this.” His gaze lingers on the bruises on her arms. “I’m so, so sorry.”

She rolls her eyes at him. “It could have been much worse.”

“I’m never drinking again,” he says.

Kate eyes the brown bottle in his hand. He smiles sheepishly at her.

“I don’t like beer,” she tells him. “It tastes bad and makes your mouth taste weird.”

“What do you like, then?” He asks.

She tilts her head. “Wine, I like wine. I don’t know. I like sweet things.”

Jon grins at her. “I have this pink wine my mom likes. I think you might, too.”

He disappears for a couple of minutes, and Kate leans her head back onto the couch. Her thighs are aching dully and bruises haven’t even started to turn yellow yet. They’re still a scary purple.

“Here,” Jon says, handing her a wine glass filled with pink wine.

She takes a sip and nods. “I like it.”

Jon smiles at her and sits next to her on the couch, his elbow hitting her arm as he sits down. Kate flinches.

His smile drops from his face and he hugs her gently, careful not to brush any of her cuts. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine,” she says, her voice muffled by his shoulder.

He pulls back and kisses her forehead and they lay together like that for a while, Kate drinking the wine that Jon’s mother likes and Jon just holding her hand.

 

“Hey,” Geordie says. “Can I have one?”

Of course, Kate thinks, of course this is where she’d run into Geordie. The smoking area of a restaurant, while waiting for Jon to get their table.

“Sure,” Kate says, handing her one.

They stand in silence for a moment before Geordie breaks it. “I found my soul mate.”

Kate nods, thinking of Michael, the boy who always wears big sweaters and has incredibly pretty murky green eyes.

“I know.”

“He says he knows you.”

Kate nods. “Yeah, I met him. So how is it?”

Geordie sighs, the smoke blowing past her lips. “It’s… everything.” She pauses. “We fight all the time. Michael is possibly the most annoying person I’ve ever met. But I love him,” she meets Kate’s eyes, those familiar pale gray eyes that Kate used to adore. There’s a new look in them – like she knows something now, something Kate doesn’t. “I love him so much.”

They don’t say anything else, and when Jon gets their table, Kate finds herself looking back to where Geordie is standing there, her copper hair tied up in a ponytail and her eyes closed.

 

This time, the party is not at Jon’s house.

“So this is my friend Brent’s house,” Jon tells her. “It’ll be fun.”

The summer night is warm, and it’s clear, for once. If she really listens, she can hear the crashing of the waves in the distance over the surprisingly quiet music coming from inside.

“Let’s go,” Jon says, taking her hand. He leads the way inside.

The instant they get inside, Jon disappears. Kate isn’t surprised – these are all his friends, she supposes. She sees Trevor with a girl on his lap, a girl with silky red hair and wide blue eyes.

“ASHLEE!” Someone yells. A boy with black fringe and dark brown eyes lined with eyeliner pushes through the crowd, his eyes narrowed. “Ashlee, get off of him!”

The girl scrambles off Trevor’s lap. “Shut up, Pete! You don’t control me!”

The guy, Pete, clenches his fists and sets his jaw. “ _ Fine.  _  Will you please get off his lap, Ash?”

She meets his eyes and walks over, taking his hand. “Fine, okay.”

Kate watches them as they almost meld together, their arms around each other’s waists and heads leaned against each other’s.

She watches them in almost fascination as they head down the hallway and start to kiss, looking desperate, like Ashlee is water and Pete is dying of thirst.

“Cute, aren’t they?”

She turns to be met with Gerard Way, the boy Katie used to have a crush on.

He’s just as tall as she remembers and still had the fire engine red hair and still has the cute, almost baby-ish face.

She nods. “I guess.”

He smiles a weird kind of smile – almost cynical, almost mean. “Ashlee has a new guy she sleeps with every week and Pete is well known for his flirting ways. They are incredibly dysfunctional.”

Kate watches as they lean against the hallway and start to kiss, watches as Pete’s tan skin contrasts with her pale skin, watches as he kisses down her neck and her hands play with his hair.

“They,” Gerard begins, watching them as well. “Are the most interesting people I have ever met.”

Kate glances up at him, noticing the way his gaze lingers on Ashlee’s red hair, the way her mouth opens to mouth Pete’s name, the way her tongue just barely licks her upper lip.

“You love her,” Kate says in surprise. She never thought Gerard Way to be one to really fall in love – of course, she’s seen the black “ _ fran”  _ on his wrist, but still.

Gerard shrugs. “It’s hard not to.”

Eventually, Pete and Ashlee disappear into one of the rooms and when Kate turns around, Gerard is gone.

 

When Kate is offered the white powder, courtesy of Gerard, she knows she shouldn’t do it. Everything else she’s done hasn’t crossed the line in “hard drugs”, but this does. This definitely does.

“It’s fun,” Lindsey, who she recognizes from the last party, tells her. “You’ll like it.”

She’s sure she will, that’s not definitely not the problem. Before she has anymore second thoughts, though, she bends over and inhales through her left nostril.  It burns her nose a little, but not nearly as much as she would have thought, and she steps back, letting Lindsey step up and lay out a line on the table. 

Kate expects it to hit her immediately, but it doesn’t. It takes a couple of minutes, and then… oh. 

It’s there. She can feel it. It feels… weird.

A good weird. Her heart feels like it’s beating a little faster and when Gerard gets up, Kate follows him, because she doesn’t want to stay in that room, the air in there feels heavy. 

She smiles, rocking back and forth and then almost falls as she runs into Jon.

“Jon!” She beams. “Hi! What are you doing?” She doesn’t wait for him to say anything (because honestly, Jon isn’t always the most interesting). “I feel really good, like, you don’t even know how good I feel. Where can I get something to drink here? I really want some juice. Also, let’s go outside.” Her eyes widen at the thought of outside - so much  _ space,  _ enough to do  _ anything.  _ Run, jump, yell. Her body is thrumming with energy.

Jon glares at Gerard. “What is she on?”

Gerard shrugs. “Coke.”

Jon sighs heavily and wraps his arm around Kate’s shoulder. It feels nice, but it’s too heavy for her right now. She wants to jump and run. 

Jon glares at Gerard again. “C’mon, babe, I’ll get you some juice.”

They get to the kitchen and Jon opens up the fridge and hands her a little bottle of cranberry juice.

She eagerly unscrews it and swallows the liquid, relishing the way it feels on her throat - it was so dry before this. 

Jon watches her in bemusement, a slight crease in his forehead as Kate wipes her mouth and grins at him.

“What now?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know. How are you feeling?”

“Great!” She beams at him and then, because Jon is  _ so  _ boring, she heads into the living room to find her now friend Gerard. He’ll probably go outside with her.

On the couch are Pete and Ashlee. His head is in her lap and she’s absently running her hands through his hair. They’re talking quietly – the only quiet part of the party, Kate bets. She can’t hear anything but the timber of their voices - Ashlee’s soft and sweet, Pete’s sultry, smoky, almost. It sounds so nice, and she closes her eyes for a moment, absorbing the sound of their voices, and the sound of the party behind that.

“Fucking beautiful,” Gerard mumbles from next to her, making her jump. 

“Are you in love with both of them?” She asks suddenly, feeling like her mind was being incredibly clever right now, for putting together the look in Gerard’s eyes, the longing in his voice.

Gerard looks down at her and it hurts to see.  She’s never seen so much pain in one gaze, a wild, tortured look, dark with agony.

Kate suddenly realizes what it must be like – to be in love with two people who aren’t soul mates, and aren’t your soul mates. The utter hopelessness of it, the way Gerard must feel.

“They’re my best friends,” is all he says. 

“I’m sorry,” she tells him, hoping her voice conveys everything she doesn’t know how to say. She’s sorry there’s soul mates, sorry that everyone is told that if you love someone, it’s not a good enough love, she’s sorry that most people can’t understand how you can love two people (“ _ It’s wrong,” her father said. “Why doesn’t she just choose?”),  _ she’s sorry for everything that’s wrong with the world.

He shrugs, his thin shoulders hunching in like he’s protecting himself. Kate hates the familiarity of it – like he’s done it a lot, like it’s something he’s used to. “It is what it is.”

Kate thinks of Patrick and Katie and Geordie and Troye and her and Jon and Pete and Ashlee, easily one of the most beautiful couple she’s ever seen. She thinks of her mother and father and how so far, it seems to her people who fall in love with people who aren’t their soul mates do it a lot better than soul mates do. She thinks of the twenty-seven red pills her mother had had to take to die and the look on Victoria Asher’s face. Her thoughts are spinning around almost too fast, and she wants - no,  _ needs -  _ to help him somehow, help Gerard. So she hugs him, wrapping her arms around his thin waist. 

“Whoa, there,” Gerard says, sounding awkward. “I’m okay.”

She shakes her head. “I want you to feel as good as I feel.”

He pushes her back and smiles at her kindly. “Well, that’s nice. You’re Kate, right?”

She nods. “I know who you are. My friend Katie used to have a crush on you.”

Gerard laughs at her, pats her shoulder awkwardly, like he’s unused to affectionate contact. “I know. It was pretty obvious.”

Having lost Jon after leaving him in the kitchen, Kate sticks to Gerard for the rest of the night, and is surprised that not only does she enjoy his company, but he’s a stellar person to be around while on cocaine. She enjoys the attention from him, how he hovers over her and asks how she’s enjoying the high over and over. It makes her feel special, and protected.

He’s funny, too, and Kate feels bad that she called him creepy when Katie liked him. She understands it now - there’s a strange edge to him that make her feel like she’s doing something bad by being with him, but he’s also kind and considerate and charming, it’s sort of intoxicating. He thinks she’s funny, too, and she preens whenever he laughs at her jokes.

He ends up walking her home (well, they run a fair bit, too. Kate can’t help it - she’s practically exploding with energy), because they can’t find Jon to drive her, and besides, he’s probably too drunk to drive at this point. He just laughs at her when she spins around, and gives her his coat like a true gentleman.

When they get to her house, they sit on the cool grass, not saying anything. Kate pats her bag, making sure she has everything.

“Thank you,” Gerard tells her, though for what, she isn’t sure.

“Of course,” she smiles at him, and stands up, taking her house keys out of her pocket. She’s turning to go inside when he grabs her hand, making her stop.

“I’m glad I met you tonight,” he tells her, earnestly, honestly. “I think you and I are going to have a lot of fun.”

Watching his tall frame being swallowed by the dark as he walks away, Kate can’t help but agree.

 

Sometime a couple of days after the party, Gerard calls her and asks if she wants to hang out with him. 

“I’m just  _ so  _ bored,” he says to her over the phone. “And Ash and Pete are busy, probably fucking. So do you want to meet up?”

“Sure,” she tells him, smiling at his rambling. “Can you pick me up, though?”

It’s not long before she’s sitting in Gerard’s car, and they drive to the parking lot of a big store, several miles from her house.

As they walk through the pillow section, he tells her about his family.“My brother is in a famous band,” he says sulkily.  “He makes more than e nough money to suffice for the whole family and plus, my parents are lawyers.”

Gerard doesn’t really  _ look  _ rich. She eyes his ripped up black jacket that has a strange stain on the front, and his black jeans and his black t-shirt that depicts some kind of punk band.

“Do you know Mikey Way?” Gerard asks her. She notices the way he lingers on his brother’s name – he doesn’t hate him, Kate decides. Maybe he’s just jealous.

“I don’t think so,” she tells him. She can’t think of any band that has that name in it. Kate doesn’t really pay attention to bands all that much, though, so it’s not a surprise.

He shrugs. “They play like… I don’t know. He’s in a band with these guys named Frank, Ray and Bob. They’re pretty…” He thinks for a minute. “Emo.”

They meander back outside to the car, and the sunlight is warm on her back.

“Okay,” Gerard places his hands on his steering wheel. “I’m going to do some lines. Do you want to?”

“Um,” Kate’s immediate answer is yes, but she wants to be careful with this. This isn’t cigarettes, or weed. This is something a lot more dangerous.

Still, she figures one more time won’t hurt. “Sure.”

The effect is easier to detect and enjoy than last night, probably because she hasn’t been doing anything else today. It makes her feel so happy - she’s surprised, actually, that a drug can recreate real happiness so accurately. Not that she would know enough about it, though, she supposes.

“What should we do?” Gerard asks, his voice almost high pitched. There’s a smile on his face that Kate hasn’t gotten to see – and she likes it, she likes how it curves his lips. It’s pretty.

“I don’t know,” Kate smiles back at him, glad to be here, glad to be with him, glad to be alive. “What do you think?” Her body is back to humming with energy, her skin feeling almost alight.

“We could go back into the store,” he says. “And get food.”

“I don’t have any money on me,” Kate says, shrugging. “But if we do, it should be something to drink, not eat.”

Gerard rolls his eyes. “I need to spend as much of my brother’s money as I can. It’s like, my life goal.”

Kate just shrugs again and follows him out of the car door. Her palms are sweating and suddenly, she feels just a little paranoid that the people shopping inside the store, mostly families, can tell they’re on drugs. She reminds herself that paranoia is something that happens on cocaine - she had read up on it after the party. 

The store seems a lot bigger inside than it was twenty minutes ago, and she sticks close to Gerard. He walks fast, and she has to almost run to keep up with him, but she doesn’t mind. They buy drinks, and Gerard gets some kind of sour candy thing, before heading back out to the car. Her palms are still sweaty, and she wipes them on her jeans.

They sit in his car and share his candy, and neither of them say anything for a while. Now that she knows what to expect, she isn’t feel nearly as overwhelmed as she did last night.

“So,” Gerard says, that wide smile still on his lips. “You and Jon, huh?”

She grins back. “Oh yeah, me and Jon.”

“Is that going well?”

She nods, shrugging. “Yeah, I think so.”

He tilts his head and Kate knows it’s an inquiry, so she sighs. “It’s nothing, it’s just… I haven’t seen him since the party, which is sort of weird, for us.”

Gerard shrugs. “I’ve known Jon for a while, and he’s a good guy but…. I don’t see him as being a good boyfriend.”

“But he is,” Kate bites her lip, trying to explain that Jon is a good boyfriend, that he takes care of her, but she can’t quite get the words right.

“That’s okay,” Gerard says.

When he takes her hand and squeezes it, Kate jumps but squeezes back.

 

The night Kate sleeps with Trevor, it’s a warm outside, and god, and she regrets it the next morning.

It’s not that Trevor isn’t unattractive – he is, really. Fluffy light brown hair and light blue eyes and tan skin. He also had sort of a British accent, something she hadn’t noticed before, and was ridiculously attractive, but that doesn’t even matter because, oh god, oh god, Kate wakes up in the morning and she can’t breathe and she knows she should be waking up in Jon’s bed, under his arm he always likes to throw across her and the guilt is almost overwhelming. She didn’t mean to - she  _ didn’t.  _ She can’t really even remember what happened the previous night, only that she drank a lot and did some coke, and that Jon had disappeared again, this time with a girl. It had made her feel jealous and upset and then Trevor, who had noticed Jon leaving, was talking to her, and now here she was.

She slips out of the unfamiliar bed and puts her clothes back on, her hands almost shaking as she clasps her bra and glances at the sleeping Trevor guiltily, before closing the door softly behind her.

The house that the party was in, the party that led to  _ this _ , is Trevor’s, she assumes, but then again Trevor doesn’t seem like he’d mind having sex and falling asleep in some stranger’s bed. She 

She doesn’t check her phone till she’s outside and walking. The morning is overcast and there’s a chill in the air. She shivers as she unlocks it.

There are sixteen text messages from Jon and three missed calls. All the messages ask where she is, if she’s okay and a couple where he talks about how she should be in his bed. One says he’s sorry, but he doesn’t say what for.

She feels sick at the thought of herself, and the thought of their relationship. She wants to go home and cry.  But she doesn’t,  _ can’t.  _ Her house is too far away to walk to,  so she calls Jon and asks him to come pick her up.

When he pulls up on the street and takes in her appearance, she sees something flicker in his eyes and Kate knows he knows. She’s pretty sure there’s a hickey on her collarbone, one she tried to hide but there’s a chance it’s showing, anyways. Maybe the guilt she’s certain is on her face is what gave her away, or maybe it was the hickey. It doesn’t matter. 

“Where have you been?” He asks as she climbs into the car.

She shrugs and doesn’t meet his gaze. For some reason, the guilt isn’t as prominent as before.

He sighs and runs a hand through his hair and Kate suddenly doesn’t like how  _ irritated  _ he is, and not concerned at all. She doesn’t like the look in his eyes – there’s something she doesn’t recognize there, something that’s almost scary. He doesn’t even inquire about her night, if she was okay, anything. Doesn’t even look at her.

He presses the gas too much on the way to her house and Kate spends the trip clutching at her seatbelt, almost certain they’re going to crash ( _ again,  _ her mind whispers) but they arrive at her house relatively safely, having run only one red light, surprisingly few when Jon’s in this state.

“We’re not going to your house?” She asks. She hadn’t told him to take her home, and she had half expected them to pull up at Jon’s frat house.

When he looks at her, Kate almost shrinks away.

“No,” he says. “We’re not.”

She opens the car door and almost stumbles out, surprised at how scared Jon is making her. “Um, I…. okay. Bye.”

“Bye,” he says and then accelerates and he’s gone, driving down the street too fast.

She watches his car disappear and goes inside, thinking of how Trevor and Jon’s hair color is almost the same shade of caramel-y brown.

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: abuse

When September hits and Kate has to go back to school, the leaves are starting to yellow.

She sighs as the sun shines onto the concrete steps of her high school. Katie and Patrick are waiting for her, Patrick’s hair looking like a halo in the sunshine and Katie is smiling hugely.

High school is the same as it ever was – boring and long. It’s still warm outside and she spends most of the time staring longingly out the window at the beautiful day it is outside. It seems unfair that school starts when it’s still warm out.

When Kate gets out, Patrick and Katie ask her if she wants to go get smoothies. She agrees, in spite of knowing she’ll be the third wheel the whole time. She doesn’t spend enough time with them.

Katie and Patrick are so happy. She can tell. Their words fall out of their mouths almost too fast and their heads are leaning against each other’s, and she can almost feel how much they love each other. It’s almost tangible, palpable.

After Katie has to go home, and Patrick has guitar lessons (“He takes like, nine lessons of things a day,” Katie had said affectionately), Kate is left alone and she succumbs to calling Gerard.

As soon as he picks up the phone, he says, “You want me to pick you up?”

“Yes,” she says, closing her eyes. “I do.”

“Hey,” Gerard’s voice is caring, almost. “It’s okay. I understand. You okay?”

Kate wonders if he knows, knows about her mother and her father and her boyfriend and how she feels like everything's falling apart.

“Maybe,” she says.

“You want to do a few lines?”

She considers it. She’s only done it a couple of times recently. It’s not that big of a deal, right? “Sure.”

“Okay. I’ll keep funding you doing coke if you have sex with me.”

Kate almost drops the phone. “ _ What?” _

“I mean, you don’t have to decide now. I’ll fund you for a while longer but I mean, you’re hot and I would love to fuck you and you want coke, so.”

She doesn’t know what to say, hasn’t ever been exposed to this kind of thing before. She looks down at her legs and notices her hands are shaking. “I… um…” 

_ I’m sixteen,  _ she wants to yell.  _ I’m sixteen. I’m not ready for this.  _ This isn’t what she wanted from Gerard. She isn’t sure what she wanted - comfort, maybe. Compassion.

“Cool,” Gerard says. “Let’s not tell that boyfriend of yours.”

They hang up and Kate’s left with an ominous feeling of being unsure what she just agreed to, or if she agreed at all.

 

She inhales deeply and sighs as that now familiar feeling washes over her.  Kate loves the high cocaine gives her, the way it makes her relaxes, how hard she laughs when she’s high on it. It’s so much different from the stifling coldness of reality.  It makes her mind feel so much sharper.

She and Gerard are in a hotel room, one he rented for a couple of days for god knows what, and the sun is setting in the window and they’re talking about life and his fire engine hair is incredibly bright in the light.

He’s attractive, Kate supposes. And sex doesn’t really mean anything, not really. It wouldn’t change who she was as a person.

The more she found herself somewhere with Gerard, doing coke, the better she felt when she was high on it, the more she found herself craving it. It was sort of scary, but also not that big of a deal. She knew if she was careful, she wouldn’t get addicted. She’d been able to handle cigarettes alright, and those were addictive as fuck. 

The only downfall of cocaine is that it made her so sad afterwards. After experiencing bliss, how could she live in her life, which felt so… gray in comparison? Like she said: reality was stifling and cold compared to the warmth and life she perceived while on the drug.

“God,” Gerard sighs. His arm is thrown across her stomach, his eyes closed. “It’s so easy to talk to you.” Kate is used to this easy touching, and she likes it. Gerard pressed against her, his head on her lap, his fingers in her hair. It’s affectionate, and simple, and so easy to love.

“I know,” Kate agrees, taking in how the hotel smells like flowers and how soft the blankets are under her legs, and the softness of his arm across her stomach. “I know what you mean.”

“You,” he announces. “Are the first person I’ve ever trusted this much.”

In a weird way, Kate knows what he means. Gerard is the only person who knows about her doing cocaine. Not even Jon knows. He’s the only one she told about Trevor, and how guilty it made her feel. In a way, it seems inevitable they’ll have sex. Despite the fact that Gerard is so in love with Pete and Ashlee, despite that there’s still the letters on Gerard’s wrist and the delicate “ _ ryan”  _ on hers (the boy with the red bitten lips has been a part of her dreams for several weeks), despite that the very universe is set against them.

“Were you serious?” She asks him.

“Hmm?” Gerard says, looking so at peace in the sunlight that she feels a sudden wave of affection.

“That I should have sex with you, because you buy cocaine,” she tells him, hoping her voice isn’t trembling as much as she thinks it is.

“No,” he shakes his head, laughing. “I’m not that awful. But I’m not… you know, against it. If that’s what you want.”

“Do I owe you a lot?”

He shrugs. “I mean, yeah? Kind of. Cocaine isn’t cheap, dear.”

That makes her feel weird, knowing that she owes Gerard a lot, more than she probably could calculate. “Would it… work if I had sex with you to pay you back?”

Gerard turns onto his stomach and looks at her, his eyebrows creased. “Kate, I don’t want you to have sex with me because you “owe” me. Honestly, I’d keep buying even if you did nothing - I have a lot of money. If we had sex, I want it to be because you want to.”

Kate blushes and avoids looking at him. “Well, maybe I want to.”

He doesn’t say anything, and her cheeks burn more. She doesn’t want to meet his eyes.

“I want to, too,” he says. “Kate, look at me.”

She does, albeit reluctantly, and tries to focus on the kindness in his eyes instead of anything else.

“It’s okay,” he says quietly. “That’s okay.”

Except it’s  _ not,  _ because of Jon and because of her friends and because she isn’t supposed to be this kind of person. It’s not okay. It’s not.

She doesn’t say that, though, and instead lets Gerard pull her a little closer and they lean their heads together for a while, just in silence.

 

It’s a couple nights later, on a Saturday, and it’s just beginning to be fall. Kate admires the red and gold of the maple trees, loves the apples that litter the ground around the apple trees. 

Even though there’s a party at Jon’s tonight, her and Gerard decided not to go. She didn’t feel like doing that same old thing, seeing her boyfriend drunk and make himself look stupid, didn’t want to deal with the burning smell of alcohol. Gerard’d felt the same, and so instead they drive to Gerard’s house, somewhere that Kate hasn’t been to before.

“Wow,” she says, stepping back. His room is big, painted a dark blue, and it’s surprisingly clean, considering Gerard seemed like a messy person.

“Yeah, whatever,” he scowls, lighting a cigarette and blowing it out the window. “Fucking materialistic shit, all of it.”

She laughs at that, used to Gerard’s occasional outbursts against his family. She knows he love them and had found out earlier that day when his mother had called him and demanded him home for dinner that night that he still called his mother “Mommy.”

“Yes, Mommy,” Gerard had said, not looking at Kate. His cheeks were bright red. “I’ll be there. Yes. I love you, too.”

Kate giggled and he glared at her. 

“Fuck off,” he muttered. “If you say a word,  _ one word,  _ I’ll -”

“Wow,” she couldn’t hold back laughing any longer. “Wow, you’re such a mommy’s boy. All this talk of hating your parents, this whole thing, it’s such a facade.”

Now, Gerard rolls his eyes at her. “Fuck off, Kate. You haven’t even met my parents - they’re awful.”

“Will I be meeting them tonight?” She asks, settling down onto his bed. 

“Unfortunately, probably,” he takes another long drag from the cigarette. “I apologize in advance.”

“I’m sure I can handle it,” she says. “Is your brother here?”

Gerard’s answering scowl is answer enough, and Kate can’t help but bouncing a little bit. She’d been dying to meet the infamous Mikey Way for weeks.

“Yeah, yeah,” he grounds his cigarette out on the window sill and joins Kate on the bed. “Don’t get too excited. We’ll hopefully only be seeing them at dinner, then we can get the fuck out of here and go somewhere else.”

“Right,” she says. He grimaces again.

The remaining time until dinner is filled with Gerard yelling about how his parents always search his room for drugs the second he leaves the house, Kate is laughing at his latest impression of his father when the door opens and a woman with a soft looking face and voluminous hair pokes her head inside. Her brown eyes widen at the sight of Kate. 

“Gee,” she says, coming inside the room slowly. 

Gerard, who had shut up the second the door opened, smiles at her. “Hi, Mom. This is Kate. Kate, this is my mom.”

“Hi, Mrs. Way,” Kate smiles at her.

“Oh, no, please call me Donna,” she smiles back at her warmly. “I came up to let Gee know dinner was ready. I didn’t know he had a guest.”

“Sorry,” Gerard says, not looking the least bit apologetic. “I forgot to tell you.”

“That’s fine,” Donna says. “I’ll see you two in a minute.” She retreats, closing the door behind her.

“Wow,” Kate lets out a breath a second after she leaves. “Wow, you’re right. That woman was literally  _ Satan.  _ I can’t believe how utterly  _ awful  _ she was -”

“Shut up,” Gerard throws a pillow at her. “You don’t understand.”

“I’m serious,” she holds her hands up, trying to keep a straight face. “Really, really terrible.”

Gerard rolls his eyes. “Hil _ arious.  _ Come on, let’s go to dinner.”

The Ways’ dining room is sleek and modern, all marble and stainless steel. The worn, wooden table looks incredibly out of place, and it wobbles when Kate sits down. 

Across the table from her is a boy who looks a lot like Gerard, except his face isn’t as rounded, and his eyes are a startling icy blue rather than warm brown. His feathery, bleached blonde hair sticks up in all angles, and his lips are thin and smiley.

He grins at her. “Hi, you must be Kate.” When she nods, his grin widens. “Awesome. I’m Mikey.”

“Nice to meet you,” she says softly.

Donna and Gerard’s father are sitting down, too. His dad looks kind, with smile lines next to his eyes and eyes that match Mikey’s. He introduces himself as well, and as they all start eating, Mikey and his mother chatting warmly, Kate finds it hard to believe these are the parents Gerard despises so much, claims don’t really love him. They seem genuinely interested in what he has to say, and they’re so nice to Kate, it’s puzzling and strange that these people are who Gerard’s been bitching about for weeks.

After dinner, Mikey follows them back up to Gerard’s room, asking his brother how he’d been, what he’d been up to, how Kate and him met. 

“We’re not together,” Gerard says brusquely. 

Mikey rolls his eyes. “I didn’t think you were. Mom just sent me up here to find out more - you know she’s relieved you have more friends than Pete and Ash. She hates them.”

“Rightly so,” Gerard mutters. 

Gerard’s agreement with the statement is surprising, and Kate shoots him a look. Before this, he’d said nothing but positive, if slightly bitter, things about Pete and Ashlee.

“But the question still stands: how’d you meet?”

Since Gerard isn’t saying anything, Kate speaks for him. “At a party.”

“Of course,” Mikey laughs. “That’s all you do.”

“Not true,” he protests. “Kate and I do other stuff. We’re here, aren’t we? Made time from our  _ incredibly  _ busy schedule to see you assholes.”

Kate likes how Gerard acts when he’s with his family. It’s more lighthearted, and his words don ’t seem as heavy.

“You’ll be gone soon,” Mikey says, rolling his eyes. “Not that I care - Frank and Ray are is coming over to practice.”

“Whatever,” Gerard scoffs. “I hate seeing you moon over Ray. I don’t give a fuck if he’s your soulmate, it’s gross.”

“I wish you would give them a chance. You haven’t even met Frank. He’s a really good guy.”

“I don’t need to. All of your band mates are the same.”

The two brothers glare at each other.

“So, Ray is your soulmate?” Kate asks, hoping to break the tense silence.

Mikey stops looking at Gerard and smiles at her. “Yeah, he is.”

“How’d you meet?”

“Well,” he lets out a little sigh. “He showed up because we were looking for a guitarist and we both just sort of… knew.”

“Aww,” she coos, because it’s cute, you can’t deny it. 

“Have you met yours?”

“Nah,” she shakes her head. “Well, I mean, sort of. I’ve seen him, I think.”

“Who is he?” Mikey asks curiously.

“His name is Ryan,” she shows him the name on her wrist.

Mikey exchanges a look with Gerard. “Ryan Ross?”

“I don’t know,” she shrugs. “Maybe?” She looks at Gerard, because he’s friends with more people than her.

“I suspect so,” Gerard tells Mikey. “I’m not sure, though. You know Ryan’s still looking.” They exchange another glance, full of something they’re not saying.

“You know,” Mikey hums thoughtfully. “If you stayed here, you could meet Frank. You know that I think he’s your -” 

“Shut up!” Gerard snaps loudly. “Kate, let’s go. We’ve got better things to do than be here.” With that, he turns around and leaves.

Mikey sighs after the door closes, watching Kate put her shoes on.    
“What was that about?” She asks as she ties the laces.

“Frank is his soulmate,” he sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Gerard  _ knows.” _

This is definitely news to Kate and she stares at him. “Wait, really? Gee said he hadn’t found his soulmate yet.”

“Well, yeah, not like, technically. But he knows that Frank is. He just won’t meet him.”

“Why not?”

Mikey sighs again. “I think he’s afraid.” When she doesn’t say anything, he smiles at her ruefully. “Well, it was nice to meet you. I’m glad Gee has some respectable friends.”   
She nods and waves, and on the way to Gerard’s car, thinks about how even when she does hard drugs and fucks random guys, she’s  _ still  _ deemed respectable. She really needs to stop wearing sweaters.

 

Gerard drives them to a park.

“Don’t you think it’s a little cold?” Kate asks doubtfully. It’s getting dark.

“You have a jacket, don’t bitch,” he tells her. He’d been in a bad mood ever since leaving his family’s house and though she understood it, it’s starting to get to her.

“Fine,” she retorts. “Let’s go.” She hops out of the car. It’s just as cold as she suspected, and she wraps her jacket tightly around her. The stars are out and as she waits for Gerard, she tries to find Ursa Major.

He finally joins her, looking sulky. “Sorry,” he says, looking up at the sky with her. “Being with my family puts me in sort of a funk.”

“I noticed,” she comments dryly.

“Yeah, yeah. Like I said, I’m sorry. It just stresses me out.”

“It’s okay,” she tells him.

They stand there for a few moments longer before Gerard takes her hand. “Come on, I want to show you something.”

She tries to ignore the warmth of his hand in hers, reminding herself that they’re just friends, nothing more, right, and it’s dark, and he’s just guiding her. She can’t shake the feelings of guilt though.

He leads the way underneath a gaggle of lilac trees, through the prickly branches and out the other side. They make sort of a circle around a clearing. Kate’s been here before,when she was younger. She’d never thought she’d be back, though.

They sit on the damp grass, and Gerard sighs, flopping onto his back. “So, what’d you think of my family?”

Kate lights a cigarette, taking a drag before she responds. “They’re nice. I don’t understand why you hate them.”

She can see him scowl, even in the dark. 

“They make me so uncomfortable,” he mutters, almost too quietly for her to hear. “I don’t know. They’re all really passive aggressive and just… yeah. I don’t think you coud pick up on it unless you lived with them.”

“Well,” Kate exhales smoke into the air, coughing a little. “I understand why’d that suck.”   
“It’s awful. I mean, they don’t like Mikey’s band, or anything we do, really, but they don’t tell us that, because God forbid there be any actual communication. They just tell us subtly, destructively, and during the middle of other arguments.” 

“That doesn’t sound fun,” she says, thinking about how at least her parents were communicative, when they talked. Which was hardly ever.

“It’s not,” Gerard sighs. “Thanks for listening to me bitch, though.”

“No problem, Gee,” she pauses. “Um, so what about this Frank guy?”

Immediately, Gerard’s face hardens and he looks away. “You mean the guy in Mikey’s band?”

Since it’s obvious he doesn’t want to talk about it, she quickly says, “Um, I don’t know, never mind.” He’s already told her a lot, and remembering Mikey’s words from earlier ( _ “He’s scared,”)  _ she doesn’t want to push it.

“Okay,” Gerard says after a moment of silence. “This might not be as fun as a party.”   
“I don’t know,” Kate hedges. “This is a lot more relaxing. And we aren’t doing any drugs, so it seems safer.”

“Oh, but that’s just because the fun hasn’t started,” he grins at her.

Kate laughs, and they sit in silence again. She finds that even though it is cold, she doesn’t mind so much. The night is clear and gorgeous, and Gerard is warm next to her. 

“Alright,” he breaks the quiet. “What if we go to a party for a little bit, just enough to get drunk?”

“Man,” she shakes her head, smiling. “And after all you said about how boring parties were, and how much fun we’d have without them -”

“Shut up,” he nudges her. “You enjoy them, too.”

The party they go to is just as it was expected to be - loud, full of people and the cloying smell of alcohol and sweat. Gerard goes right for the cooler, and trumphiantly retrieves a bottle of only slightly depleted vodka.

“We could just leave, right now,” he tells her. “Leave, get smashed, do some coke, you know…”

Kate rolls her eyes, grabs the bottle and tilts it back, downing a few mouthfuls. It burns a lot and as soon as she’s done, she starts coughing but it’s totally worth the impressed expression on Gerard’s face. 

They do go to his car, but they don’t leave the party. She can still hear the music from outside, even though Gerard’s playing his own - some sort of soft alternative. There’s a bottle of lemonade they use as a chaser for the vodka, and it doesn’t take long for Gerard’s cheeks to become flushed. 

“You know,” he says, leaning across the seat towards her. His arm is warm around her shoulders. “Now we should do some coke. I vote for that.”

Kate takes another swig, wincing, then nods. “Great idea. Let’s go to the back, though, there’s people around.”

They clamber over to the back, his long legs getting stuck between the seats, resulting in her having to push them free while Gerard giggles loudly at her. 

Instead of doing lines this time, they use a little spoon. It’s not as fun, in her opinion, but it still gets the job done.    
“Nice,” Gerard says after he’s taken his hit. He leans back, a satisfied smile on his face. “That is some good stuff.”

Kate settles back onto him. “Gerard, do you think I’m a bad person?”

Gerard hums, stroking her hair. “Of course not. I think you’re great.”

“Yeah, okay, but,” she turns onto her stomach, her chin resting on his chest. She meets his eyes. “You’re not supposed to do drugs. I remember all the awful warning movies they’d show us in school. And yet, here I am doing them.”

“Fuck the system,” he shakes his head. “You gotta remember that yes, cocaine is pretty fucking bad, but also, drugs have a lot of negative stigma. They’re not usually as bad as they’re made out to be.”

“Really?”

He nods, his chin hitting her head a little bit. “Yeah. Especially relatively harmless ones, like weed.”

“Hmm,” Kate thinks about this for a second, her thoughts a little fuzzy. “So what we’re doing isn’t bad?”

“Oh no, it’s awful,” he chuckles. “It’s one of the worst drugs to do. Plus, mixing cocaine with alcohol is really dangerous.”

“What? Why didn’t you tell me that?”

“Calm down, we’ll be fine,” he soothes. His fingers wrap around her wrist. “Your heart is beating so fast.”

The mood changes in the car comically quickly. It goes from relaxed to tense, heated. She knows her heart is probably beating even harder, and she’s hyperaware of his skin on hers.

“Kate,” Gerard says, softly, quietly. 

“What?”

“Can I…”

He doesn’t finish the sentence, but she knows what he’s going to say. 

“Yes,” she says, trying not to think about if it’s the right choice or not. It  _ feels  _ right. Who cares about the politics of it, when it feels so nice?

This is the motto she keeps in her head as he kisses her, as his hands touch her neck, her shoulders, her collarbone, her waist. She keeps thinking it as they kiss again and again, as Gerard loses his shirt, as it gets a little harder to move around the car.

_ I am a terrible person,  _ she thinks, after he falls asleep, and his arm is flung heavily across her chest. She feels guiltily happy, a sinful kind of contentment. She repeats the motto until she falls asleep, but the bad feeling in her stomach fails to go away.

 

“I haven’t seen you much,” Jon says.

_ He knows, _ Kate thinks in a panic, certain that he’s noticed the shadows under her eyes, the almost dismissive way she’s treated pot lately, the way she’s stopped drinking (she doesn’t like it nearly as much as cocaine - it makes her so incapable of handling things).

“Yeah,” she sighs. “School is… hard.” That isn’t even a lie, because it is. It’s just not the main reason she hasn’t been around.

Jon looks at her for a moment and she meets his familiar blue eyes, hoping she isn’t completely transparent. He sighs, and looks away again.“Yeah. I get it. Do you want to come over today?”

She nods, partly because she does and partly because Gerard is busy today.

“Cool,” Jon nods and they pull up to his house. It’s just as familiar as Kate can remember, even though she hasn’t been there since before the Trevor thing (which she still isn’t sure if Jon knows about).

And it’s so easy, to fall back into their pattern. It has the feeling of normalcy, of routine, despite the heaviness of secrets they both know she’s keeping. He must know about Trevor, and he’s probably heard she’s been hanging out with Gerard. They have the same circle of friends, after all.

He makes food from his cooking class and talks about classes at the university and she talks about her classes and her friends and the weather (she almost cringes when the conversation goes there) and a million other things. She’s careful not to slip anything out about how she spends most of her days at random places with Gerard and how she’s been having sex with him for a week now and how she doesn’t love him but would trust him with her life, at this point - he knows everything else about her so why not.  

They both know it’s ending. Kate can feel it in the annoyance that sparks through her at Jon’s fake accent, the tired way he says “babe”, the way their eyes never really meet. They have sex, and it’s familiar but it doesn’t feel so heated anymore. It just kind of hurts, like slowly ripping off a Band-Aid. It’d be better to do it all at once.

 

Weeks pass, and still the Band-Aid doesn’t come off. Kate spends her days between Gerard and Jon. She can still feel the places Gerard kissed her when she sees Jon – they burn like a blister, a mix of nausea and guilt and pleasure.

But mostly, mostly in the forefront of her mind, is that drug. Cocaine. The white powder that gets rid of her stress, makes her stop being so sad. She refers to it as the happy drug in her head, and lately she’s had to take larger and larger doses (“You’re building up tolerance,” Gerard said. “You’ll need more and more”). And he was right. Kate craves it always, when she wakes up and when she goes to bed and all the time in between. 

Sometimes, in the admittedly rare moments when Kate’s mind is clear, free of guilt from Jon and euphoria from cocaine, she wonders how she got here. She’s sixteen years old and her mother is dead and her father and she hardly ever speak and Katie and Patrick, she hasn’t seen one on one since school started.

She doesn’t want to stop, though, even if she could (probably). Lately, whenever she’s not on it, her fingers feel sort of numb, and her head hurts. She feels so tired, and when she’s home, she hears her mother’s laugh everywhere. So she finds herself doing lines off bathroom counters, the dashboard of Gerard’s car, her state I.D. Places that, when she thinks about it, are pretty gross.

It’s just after one of those times. Kate is walking home because Gerard had something and couldn’t drop her off,  and her mouth is still numb from the coke, her footsteps echoing in the road. She’s scared. She’s always been scared to walk alone at night, and tonight is no exception.

She keeps her gaze focused ahead, even though the street appears empty. She can see people and lights not that far ahead, and she quickens her pace, rape and assault statistics scrolling through her mind.

The night is thick and black and cold and someone whistles at her. She squeezes her eyes shut, briefly, and almost starts to run. Someone shouts something at her – she can’t make out anything but “pretty girl” and cold terror washes over her. She’s so scared, her knees are shaking and she wouldn’t be surprised if her face is white. This isn’t really happening.

“Hey,” someone says and she jumps so hard, she bites her tongue and tastes blood. But they aren’t talking to her; they’re talking to the men behind her. The ones who whistled. “Hey, shut up. She isn’t a dog, douche bags.”

She recognizes that voice - so clear, beautiful - and doesn’t need to turn around to know that behind her is a boy with pale skin and dark hair and lips bitten so much they’ve turned red with eyes in a chocolate brown that match the color on her wrist.

_ Ryan.                                                                                                                                                                                                 _ She turns around and she meets his gaze. It’s only for a moment – it’s late and Kate has to go, but for a minute, that wonderful warmth is sweeping through her and his dark eyes are boring into hers. Dark brown. Beautiful. She’s surprisingly okay with not talking to him. She doesn’t need to. They’ll meet sometime, when they’re supposed to. When they have plenty of time to talk, and know each other and it’s not eleven o’clock on a Tuesday night with drunken men lumbering around.

“Bye,” he whispers, but the sound carries over to her easily.

Kate smiles at him and says “Bye,” back. She gets to see the corner of his lip twitch – like he’s trying not to smile.

As she turns around and heads into a block filled with people and lights, she realizes she can’t stop smiling, and that her face is numb. She can’t tell if it’s from the cold, the cocaine, or the thrill of seeing Ryan.

 

Kate has started doing a lot more coke than she originally thought she would. Thick lines, all day, almost every day, except for when Gerard is busy. Those are the bad days. She always feels so tired and sick, and she barely leaves bed. The world is so  _ cold.  _ How come she never noticed that before?

But she’s not addicted. She just isn’t. She’s sure that if she wanted to stop, she could. This is her choice, and she has control over it.

Sometimes, she says stuff like this to Gerard and he just looks at her sadly, and says, “What have I done to you,” not even like a question. She doesn’t like it when that happens. Those words scare her. She didn’t think she’d changed much, but maybe she had, in ways that she didn’t notice.

The day Jon finds out she’s been having sex with Gerard, he’s drunk, and it’s only been happening for three weeks.

It’s just finished happening – the sex – and Gerard and Kate are laying together, his hips next to hers and their feet hooked around each other. The sex is good, but the guilt of knowing Jon still thinks she’s being faithful sort of takes away from it. Gerard likes to set up cocaine on her hips, and inhale it off her body. It’s sort of hot, she agrees, but it also makes her feel sort of like a plate.

He’s setting up lines across the pale skin of her stomach when Jon calls. Kate is too lazy to answer her phone and it’s about two in the morning and so she makes Gerard answer it, his deep voice making her spine shiver. It’s stupid to pretend she’s not attracted to Gerard – she is, oh god, she is, even though it makes her feel wrong, and sort of dirty.

“Who is this?” Jon’s voice demands and Kate bolts up, grabbing the phone from Gerard and trying to keep the panic from her voice. The powder falls off her hips, making Gerard swear.

“Jon?”

“Who was that?” He asks again, his voice harsh. He doesn’t sound like himself, and her stomach flips when she realizes he’s drunk. She almost lies but figures there’s no point, not really. He probably already knows. “Gerard. That was Gerard.”

“Way?”

“Yes.”

Jon breathes through the phone line, making it crackle. “Please come over. Right now. I think we need to talk.”

And for the second time since the day he dropped her off at her house, Kate is afraid. She’s afraid of Jon and she doesn’t want to go over there, not when it’s the middle of the night and he’s drunk and not thinking, and it seems so dark outside. 

But she has to, she knows she has to. It’s probably time to rip the Band-Aid off.

She meets Gerard’s wide eyes and he just nods, says, “Get in the car,” and helps her find her clothes. Really, Kate couldn’t find a better person to have sex with in exchange for drugs. The night is cold and sharp as they get into the car.

“Wait,” she stops him as she ties her hair up. “Can we… I need to…”

She’s incredibly thankful Gerard understands – she isn’t sure if she’d be able to say “I need to have more of it”.

He crushes it up into powder with his driver’s license. “This stuff is really good,” he tells her. “Like, really pure stuff.”

Kate isn’t even sure she knows what that means, but she arranges the lines, intentionally doing more than she usually would, and ignoring Gerard when he says something like “Wow, that’s, um, kind of a lot”, and inhaling, over and over again. She knows it’s a lot. That’s the point.

“Let’s go,” she says, feeling that familiar rush go over her. 

The car ride is quiet, and  Kate is momentarily glad Jon doesn’t actually live that far from Gerard’s house. Her mouth is starting to numb. Her hands feel oddly shaky, which is strange because that only ever happens when she’s off coke, not  _ on  _ it. Her heartbeat feels like it’s going almost too fast, but she remembers what Gerard said about it being “pure” and blames that. 

She feels almost restless – she can’t stop her leg from bouncing up and down in the car seat, and it feels like Gerard is almost mad at her, like he’s judging her for liking cocaine so much and having sex with him for it.

_ He doesn’t control my decisions,  _ she thinks frantically, but can’t help but stare at Gerard from the corner of her eye. Is it just her or is he glaring at her?

“We’re here,” he says as they pull up at Jon’s house.

For a couple of seconds, the paranoia about Gerard is gone, replaced with a sudden panic at what Jon will do to her, in this house that suddenly seems so far from any other house, with that hard look he gets in his eyes when he’s angry. Only Gerard knows she’s here, and as much as she loves him, he isn’t necessarily the kind of person to call the cops if Kate doesn’t show up the next day. 

Gerard looks worried but she just tells him it’ll be okay, and that she can handle Jon,  even if she isn’t sure that she can, or will be (really, was his house always this solitary?) and climbs out of the car, inhaling the cold night air. Her hands are still shaking, and her chest hurts a little bit, right where her heart is. Her head feels a little weird - her vision is swimming, just a little. God, she didn’t know fear could fuck someone up like this. Idly, she thinks it’s sort of a good high. If you like feeling incapacitated, that is.

The car pulls away and Kate opens up the door to the house. The entryway is dark, and she can smell that Jon’s been drinking. A lot, probably. He hardly ever did things halfway.

There’s cold macaroni on the stove and Jon is sitting at the kitchen table, his hands interlaced and his eyes focused on the wood. She’s never seen him look so… intense before.

“Hey,” Kate says. It’s almost hard to breathe and the panic that is setting in is getting stronger, making her jaw clench.

Jon doesn’t respond. She pulls out a chair and sits down.

Finally, after what feels like forever, he sighs wearily. “You’re having sex with Gerard.”

It isn’t a question, but Kate still answers. “Yeah. I am.”

He sighs again and looks at her. That angry glint is in his eyes is there and Kate wants to run, should have ran, maybe. Her legs are shaking a little. Her vision is swimming a little more, and she starts to feel actual worry, because cocaine doesn’t usually feel like this.

Jon’s fists tighten, his knuckles turn white. “Why the fuck would you do that?”

She focuses on the ceiling. “I don’t know what to say.” He wouldn’t understand.

“Why don’t you say you’re fucking  _ sorry _ ?” His voice gets louder towards the end.

“I…” She is sorry. She’s not sure why her mouth won’t say the words for her. 

He shudders and Kate is suddenly more scared than she has ever been in her life. Her mouth isn’t cooperating with her, and in the moment of silence, she wonders why this happened. She used to love Jon – she used to trust him with everything and now she’s scared – of what, she isn’t sure. Her hands still won’t stop shaking. Her mind feels strange. Disconnected.

And then he’s standing up and Kate does too, stepping back quickly. He grabs her arm too hard and she winces. “Jon, you’re hurting me.”  _ Please let me go. Is my voice working now? _

“You hurt me,” he said, his voice slurring a little. “You fucking  _ broke my heart.” _

“I’m sorry,” she tells him, fighting to keep her voice calm. Her breathing feels irregular, shallow and she feels so hot, so, so hot. “I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry. I did love you. I did.” She did.

“Shut the fuck up,” he snarls, his grip on her arm getting tighter. “Stop fucking lying. People don’t hurt someone like this when they love them. You’re not supposed to sleep with other guys. God, you’re such a  _ slut.” _

And well, he sort of has a point there. She is a slut, and you’re not supposed to sleep with other people. Her thoughts are fuzzy, trying to make the connection.  _ Why aren’t you supposed to do that? What is wrong with that, again? _

“I’m sorry,” she says again, because that’s what she should say. “I just - soulmates, and we can’t really be together anyways, and I -”

It happens so fast and Kate is left reeling. His fist against her face is hot and she feels something – blood, maybe – and she can’t breathe and her whole face hurts, even the side he didn’t touch. The place where he grabbed her arm is red and she knows there will probably be bruises there tomorrow.

She jerks away but he hits her again and her jaw feels like it’s getting dislocated. What is going on? Her face hurts so much, but now her legs are burning, too.

“I loved you,” Jon says, his arm dropping. She can’t see his face. “I  _ loved  _ you.”

She shakes her head, her eyes burning. She doesn’t want to cry, she can’t cry. “No, no, I-”

He’s raising his arm again and Kate turns around and runs, as best as she can,  through the kitchen and out the door, not bothering to shut it. Her body feels too hot and her arms are shaking and there’s blood on her face, she knows that because it’s getting in her eyes, and she can feel the place Jon touched her on her arm, making her feel sick.

She’s running up the sidewalk, knowing if she stops running, that terrible heat might take over her body and burn her from the inside out, and Jon will catch her and kill her, or something, and she feels like everyone is watching her, laughing at her, the drug addict running from her boyfriend, who hurt her, finally hurt her -  _ like she deserves. _

She’s crying so hard her eyes are starting to hurt, but it’s hard to tell if that’s from the tears or the gash on her head.

Up ahead is a gas station, it’s bright sign illuminating the darkness and she starts crying harder, she’s so relieved. Someone will help her there, right? She’d be safe there. Her legs feel like they’re going to give out any second and her heart is beating so fast, it feels like it’s going to escape.

The gas station is just up ahead and she finally, finally crosses into the parking lot, stumbling onto the sidewalk in the front of it. Her vision is clouded by blood and black, dancing spots. 

Before she passes out, her whole body starting to shake now, instead of just her arms and hands, she sees a brief flash of two pairs of brown eyes and hears someone say, “Oh my god,” before her eyes close.


	6. Chapter 6

Kate is pretty sure she’s either died, or gone back in time to a better time.

Her body feels better than it has in a long time – she’s laying on something soft and it smells like vanilla. Her head aches, but the pleasant warmth of her body makes up for it. She opens her eyes.

Next to her are two guys. One has floppy brown black hair and tan skin, his mouth open slightly and his perfectly white teeth standing out against his full lips. The other is Ryan, the Ryan from the parties, the Ryan from the street that night, the Ryan whose name is on her wrist. He’s snoring softly, his red lips parted to reveal teeth that are just the slightest bit crooked. 

They’re both sleeping, Ryan and the strange boy, and Kate just feels… comfortable. The aches in her face and arm are still there, but there’s no blood and no panic and the terrifying heat from last night is gone. The anxiety is gone, too, and she’s oddly okay with lying in a bed between two guys, one she barely knows and one she doesn’t know at all. She feels safer than she did with Jon - not that that means much, in retrospect - and even safer than with Gerard. There is something pure about this, so much different than any of the other times she’s woken up next to someone she doesn’t really know.

The sun is shining onto the bed, making everything feel warm, and Kate drifts in and out of sleep for – well, she doesn’t know how long.

But the final time she wakes up, Ryan says, “Well, hey there.”

Kate opens her eyes and turns to face him. He’s watching her, his mouth slightly open. She still isn’t over how beautiful he is – the way his eyelashes brush his cheek bones and the way his lips do that  _ almost  _ smile, the thing where he wants to smile but doesn’t. He’s wearing red and it makes him look even prettier, if that’s possible. Everything about him seems soft, hazy, dreamlike, her mind not quite able to accept that she’s here, next to her soulmate. The beginning of the rest of her life. It’s both terrifying and terribly exciting. This - him - is her future. 

And then, then she sees it.

On one wrist, in an almost misty looking hazel that she recognizes as her own eye color,  are the letters that spell “ _ kate.”  _ On the other wrist, in a deep brown, is the name “ _ brendon.” _

Kate feels a lurching sensation in her stomach, the feeling like you’re falling. She doesn’t know what to say or what to do. Her mind feels frozen, and she isn’t even sure she knows what she saw. Her eyes flit back up to the soft brown of Ryan’s eyes, and he’s watching her, looking… guilty? There’s definitely guilt in there, and some kind of pain she can’t identify. There’s love, too. More love than she knew was possible to see. 

She looks at his wrists again. Her name, the letters curling over the delicate purple of his veins. And then on the other wrist, Brendon. Brendon?  _ Brendon. _

The other boy in the bed, who she can only assume is Brendon, touches her softly. She flinches, not only because he touched the place where Jon grabbed her, but because she doesn’t want to be touched by him. This sudden, unexpected rival. This person, who’s already  _ here,  _ who has the capability to hurt her like she’s never been hurt before.

“It’s okay,” he says. He has a surprisingly harmonious voice for someone who’s tearing down every view on soulmates she’s ever had, piece by piece. Every thought she’s had about soulmate triads is gone, wiped from her mind. She never thought - never could have  _ imagined -  _ that this would be her.

“It’s okay,” Brendon says again. He doesn’t try to touch her again, to her relief.

How can he be saying that? It’s not okay. What is Gerard going to think of this? What is her father going to say?  What does  _ she  _ think of this? Her head feels like it’s spinning, trying to make sense of what is going on. “I’m serious,” he continues, and she turns onto her back so she can see him better.

It’s unfair, how attractive he is. Clear skin, slightly tanned even though the sun rarely appears here. He’s got dark brown eyes, and they smile along with his lips when they make eye contact. His smile is unfairly attractive, too. It makes the skin around his eyes crinkle happily, and she sort of wants to smile just because he is. “Hey, Kate, we got you. Don’t worry.”

“You’re Brendon?” She asks, even though it’s pretty much obvious already.

“Yeah, I am. You must be Kate.”

This little bit of humor, in the middle of what she considers to be a tense situation, makes her smile despite who it came from, and Brendon’s warm smile reappears. 

“Where am I? Wait, what  _ happened  _ last night? How old are you?” She intentionally doesn’t ask about how Ryan has two names on his body instead of one.

Ryan answers this time. “I’m twenty, Bren’s nineteen. You’re at my house. What happened last night is - well, it’s…” His hands, which had been relaxed up until to this point, coil into fists. “Jon.”

“Ryan is a little angry,” Brendon tells her. “You know what happened. “ His eyes linger on her face. She raises her hand to her cheek. It’s tender and hot to her touch. 

“I meant, after that. And, um… something was wrong with me. It wasn’t just… Jon.” By the looks they exchange, she knows they know what she’s talking about. The shaking of her body. That awful heat. How sick she felt.

“You overdosed on cocaine,” Ryan says bluntly, but she doesn’t miss the darkening of his eyes, or the wrinkle that appears between his eyebrows.

Kate feels something like shame and embarrassment wash through her. He doesn’t understand her like Gerard, isn’t going to get anything she says about cocaine, and because of that, he must be judging her for this. 

“I didn’t know it was too much,” she says weakly, knowing that’s not quite the truth. She knew it was a lot. She liked knowing that, too. In this case, she was stupid, and because of it, her soulmate will forever remember their first real meeting as Kate being high on cocaine. Her use of the drug wasn’t something she had ever planned for Ryan to know.

“It’s okay,” Brendon says,  _ again,  _ and she wonders scathingly if that’s all he can say. 

“Fucking Jon,” Ryan shakes his head, not looking at her. “God, that asshole. He knew you weren’t alright. He knew, and he still…”

“I always knew he was a bad apple,” Brendon muses. “I mean, who wears flip flops in the winter? Douches, that’s who.”

This is a good point, Kate has to admit. Who  _ does  _ wear flip flops in the winter?

“He isn’t just bad of his fashion choices,” Ryan rolls his eyes and then looks at Kate with a weird look on his face, one she’s never seen before. “He  _ hurt  _ you.” His voice shakes, like he might start crying and his gaze on her is intense, full of love. A look she’s never seen directed at her before.

“He did,” Brendon says. “We knew as soon as Gerard told us what happened that you weren’t okay. Ryan was ready to go beat him up. I had to remind him that you’d be scared if you woke up alone here.”

“ _ Gerard _ ,” if possible, Ryan looks angrier.

“What?” Kate asks. “What did Gerard tell you?”

Brendon and Ryan exchange a sheepish look.

“It was Ryan’s idea,” is the first thing Brendon says and Kate raises her eyebrow at Ryan.

Ryan blushes, the first time she’s ever seen him do so. It’s gorgeous. He bites his lip. “I just wanted to protect you!”

“Ryan’s been checking up on you,” Brendon grins. “Gerard tells him what you’re up to every now and then, to make sure you were okay.”

Kate isn’t sure whether to feel freaked out or flattered.

“Um,” is all she says.

“Exactly,” Brendon says. “I thought it was weird too. But Ryan and Gerard didn’t. I think that was the only thing Gerard and Ryan have ever agreed on.”

“Whatever,” Ryan crosses his arms. “I don’t even care. I was trying to keep you safe. Obviously, I failed there.” His eyes linger on the side of her face and he looks so sad, she has to hug him. He’s thin in her arms, his bones all sharp and angular under her hands. She hears his sharp intake of breath and wants to tell him it wasn’t his fault that this happened, even though she knows he probably won’t believe her.

“You could have died,” he says quietly, his voice tremoring just a little bit. “You could have  _ died.” _

“But I didn’t,” she points out. “And I did it myself. The coke, that is. I can’t really take responsibility for Jon’s actions.” Even though part of her thought it was her fault. She’d been a terrible girlfriend. She feels like he had a right to hurt her. She deserved it.

Brendon wriggles closer to them, and Ryan rests his chin on Kate’s head and she almost wants to cry because she’s never felt so safe with someone before. Ryan will take care of her. Ryan will make sure she’s safe. This, she is sure of. 

Her head is aching, and her brain reminds her that that would go away if she had coke, but she pushes that thought away, for now. 

“This is weird,” Kate says after her and Ryan have separated.  “I don’t know you.”

“I know,” Brendon and Ryan say in unison.

“I’m your soulmate,” the latter offers. 

“I know,” Kate rolls her eyes.. “But I don’t know anything  _ about _ you. I don’t know what you like, or anything. Or even what are you like.”

“Ryan is a sarcastic asshole,” Brendon grins. “He’s an English major, and hates everyone. Including me, probably.”

Ryan scowls.  “I am  _ not  _ an asshole.”

Kate giggles and leans back against the pillow and sighs. 

Sometime, she falls asleep again, to the sound of Ryan and Brendon bickering (which isn’t a good idea, probably – she doesn’t know how long she was sleeping the first time and should get home) and she sleeps better than she has in a long, long time, even though she knows she still needs to think about all of this - Jon, Gerard, Ryan, and most of all, Brendon. The extra person she didn’t know would exist.

 

It turns out she had only slept through the night.

Her house feels cold and echo-y, almost. Empty. Her father is at work, and she’s supposed to be at school. Ryan had insisted she stay home and rest, despite her protests. Eventually, she had agreed.

She flops down on her bed, not tired at all. As soon as she had left Brendon and Ryan’s company, the ache had set in. She wanted more of it. She wanted more cocaine, she wanted to feel that euphoria again. Anything to get rid of the weird numbness she felt, especially in this fucking house. She hates it.

She doesn’t quite know what to think of Ryan and Brendon. She does know that there’s already this wild jealousy at the thought of Brendon touching Ryan, being with him right now, when Kate can’t, doing things Kate won’t be able to do. The thought makes her insides burn in a very unpleasant way.

Brendon and Ryan compliment each other in every way – Brendon’s almost feminine curves to Ryan’s bony frame, the way Brendon combats every mean thing Ryan says, the way they’ve had conversations with just their eyebrows.

Of course, if Kate looked at all three of them from an outsider’s perspective, she’d see that she fits between them better than a puzzle piece, that walking down the street, they look like they belong. Funny, that the universe, or whatever it is that makes the tattoos appear, matches you with your physical complement as well as your mental one.

Brendon is, despite her immediate dislike of him, is too pretty to avoid not addressing it. Those eyes, such a wonderful shade of brown. White teeth bright against his sunny skin, those long eyelashes. And his  _ chest,  _ god, Kate might have a soulmate but she hadn’t been blind to Brendon without a shirt. He was far more muscular than Ryan, and he had semi prominent abs, and no belly hair, his narrow hips tapering down his abdomen…

She shakes her head. This is ridiculous. Yes, Brendon is attractive - sexy, even, but she won’t have him. She doesn’t want him. She already thinks of him as the competition, the rival. 

Kate sighs and closes her eyes. Maybe she’s more tired than she thought.

She’s about to fall asleep when he phone rings. Eyes barely open, she fumbles it out of her pocket. “Hello?”

“Kate?” It’s Gerard.

“Oh, hey,” she sits up more. 

“Hi, can I see you? It’s important.”

“Um,” she glances at her watch. “Yeah, I suppose.”

He tells her he’ll be there in ten minutes and Kate sighs, getting up. So much for sleep, she thinks. She glances in the mirror and freezes.

Her face. 

There’s two deep looking cuts along her eye, and a purplish bruise takes up more than half her face. Her left eye is swollen, and there are bruises in the shape of a hand on her arm, from where Jon grabbed her.

The dull ache of the injuries comes into sharper focus, and she groans softly. She looks awful.

She’s torn from her thoughts by the honk of a car horn outside.

“Jesus  _ fuck,”  _ Gerard says as soon as she gets into the car. 

Kate wants to hide her face and never meet his eyes again, but ignores the urge. She trusts Gerard.

“Jon?” He asks.

She nods, and his fists tighten around the steering wheel, his knuckles turning white. 

“God,” he hisses. “That  _ asshole.” _

Kate shrugs. “I met Ryan.” That’s all the explanation needed. Because of Jon, she had met Ryan.

Gerard relaxes a fraction, and glances at her. “You could do a lot worse than Ryan and Brendon.”

“Yeah,” she says, not sure what else to say.

“Ryan will take care of you,” he says, and Kate can’t tell if he’s reassuring her or himself. “He hates me, but for a good reason, probably.”

“What’s the reason?” She asks curiously.

He laughs bitterly, and Kate hates how much has changed between them in the span of a day. Gerard is closed off to her, now. The easy openness of before is gone, replaced by caution and side glances at her when he thinks she’s not looking.

“Ross hates that I keep supplying you with cocaine,” he says, his jaw tightening.

“Oh,” Kate frowns. “But, I mean… I probably would have done it with someone else, I think. Someone a lot worse than you. And it’s not like I’m addicted or anything.”

“Yeah, well that’s not how  _ he  _ sees it,” Gerard sighs, relaxing his hands. She can still see the tension in his jaw, though.

“I’m sorry,” she says, not sure what she can do, but wanting to apologize - for what, she isn’t sure. “I didn’t mean to…” 

_ Hurt you,  _ her mind fills in for her.  _ Cause you any pain at all.  _

He doesn’t say anything.

“I’ll still see you, yeah?” She asks.

“Of course,” he turns to her, smiling. “That is, if I’m not in jail from killing Jon. And if Ross lets you.”

She scowls. “Ryan isn’t a bad guy, Gee.”

“How would you know? You’ve known him for like, twelve hours.”

“I just do.”

“Yeah,” Gerard shakes his head. “Because he’s your soulmate. He could be an awful person, and, I don’t know, kill babies for a living and both you and Brendon would still remain blind.”

Kate wants to argue, but she doesn’t have anything to go on yet, really. 

“You should go to bed,” he says after a minute of silence. “It’s late.”

“You’ll text me, right?” Kate asks, hoping her voice conveys to him what she’s never been able to before - that she considers him one of her best friends, that he was the only one who knew everything about her and accepted her for the longest time, and that no matter how many soul mates she finds, she’ll never, ever forget it.

She thinks she’s successful, because he smiles at her with more warmth. “Of course, loser. Now go.”

As soon as she’s out of the car, he accelerates, causing her to flip him off as he drives away, and she can hear him laugh before the car disappears around the corner.

Shaking her head and smiling, she goes back inside, looking forward to sleeping again.

 

Sometimes, Ryan wishes he could be normal.

There are moments, in the rare occurrences when he’s not thinking about Kate or Brendon or anything specific, what it’s like to only love one person instead of two.

One person instead of two.

He thinks of how it felt last night, being between them. His Brendon on one side and his Kate on the other. The feeling of their bodies pressed against him, their breathing in his ears. Both of them, the familiarity of Brendon, and now finally, finally the elusive presence of Kate.

It was wonderful. For the first time since knowing he had two soul mates, he felt… good. Whole.

It’s not that Ryan ever really wishes he could be normal. He would never choose another person over Kate and Brendon. He wouldn’t be able to. He could be offered a new soul mate and he wouldn’t take it. He sees it as a blessing, something he’s lucky to have - he has  _ two,  _ two whole different people, so complex and funny and messy. Two kind, eccentric, individual people who share one similarity - they both love him, Ryan, and they always will. The thought is both overwhelming and incredible.

It’s hard, though. It’s hard because it hurts them. It hurts Brendon, still does, and yet Brendon still loves Ryan, even though it is essentially his fault he doesn’t have a family anymore. It’s hard because he knows that Brendon still gets worried, so worried, that Kate will be better than him in some way. It’s hard because he saw the look in Kate’s eyes when she saw his wrists, the horror. She was  _ horrified,  _ of  _ him.  _ Scared.

The thought of Kate being scared makes his fists clench. He knows it’s pointless to be angry at Jon, but he can’t help it. The way she looked when she stumbled into the gas station will always be part of his nightmares. The blood on her face, the bruises forming on her arm, the way she was crying so hard she was shaking or maybe she was just shaking because of the cocaine overdose, Ryan isn’t sure.  _ God,  _   he could kill whoever gave her too much of it. He should have dealt with fucking Gerard Way when he had the chance.

Ryan sighs and closes his eyes. Brendon and Kate had been lying in this bed a couple of mere hours before and if he inhaled deeply, he could still smell the cinnamon scent of Brendon’s skin and a kind of fruity smell – passion fruit? – that must’ve been Kate. The two scents shouldn’t mix, but they do.

Ryan is so fucked. He barely even knows Kate but there is nothing he wouldn’t do for her. It was like this when he first met Brendon, as well. So strong, so sudden. He wonders if it’s like this for everyone else, when they first meet their soul mate. He knows it’s just going to get more intense the more he knows her. It’s almost scary, how much he loves Brendon, the distance he’d go for that boy.

It’s hard not to. Love Brendon, that is. He smells like cinnamon and has a smile like sunshine and his hair falls into his eyes enough for Ryan to have the excuse to touch his face by pushing it out of the way. He practically bounces around, looking so happy with everything and talks so fast Ryan can’t understand him sometimes. It’s adorable.

He hasn’t spent nearly as much time with Kate but he already knows she still looks beautiful with blood and tears all over her face and that her tongue sticks out when she’s drank too much and how she looks at you when she’s relying on you, when she trusts you. Ryan makes a promise to himself to never break the trust that was already in her eyes when she looks at him.

It’s dark out and Ryan knows he should sleep but he’s never been able to sleep well without Brendon next to him, or Kate, now. He’s going to be up a lot later.

He wonders if she’s one of those people who think people with two soul mates are wrong. He hopes not. That would kind of mess things up.

When Ryan finally does fall asleep, it’s with two pillows pressed on either side of him, trying to pretend they’re Kate and Brendon. He misses them already.

 

Brendon wanted to stay with Ryan tonight, he really did. But it was late, and he needed to go home for tonight. Just to think about things, and clean up his apartment a little. It’s a wonder they haven’t moved in yet – Brendon will have to bring up that idea sometime soon.

Kate. The other name on Ryan’s wrist.

Brendon has always had sort of negative feelings about that name. He’s hated knowing that somewhere out there, there was a  girl with a slim waist and soft hands and long hair that probably smelled like lavender that Ryan will love just as much as he loves Brendon (perhaps even more). Someone who had the capacity to destroy what he had made of his life in seconds. It’dl be like a constant competition between them, him and Kate, when she showed up.

Now, though, things are a little different.

He won’t forget the look in the girl’s eyes when she stumbled into the gas station, or the bruises on her body or the way she shook. He won’t forget how she crumbled into them, trusting them completely to take care of her, the relief in her eyes when she recognized Ryan. He won’t forget how pretty she looked, dark hair spread out against the white sheets, her dark eyelashes contrasting against her skin. She looked beautiful, nearly as beautiful as Ryan, and Brendon isn’t blind to that. Even with her face bruised, she was beautiful. Her skin was so pale, and you could see the thin purple lines of her veins through the skin of her wrists. Her hands, though shaking at the time, were slim and pretty, mirroring the rest of her. The lilac-hazel of her eyes, dark with things he hasn’t learned about her yet.

This was  _ Kate.  _ The faceless name. The girl that was his competition.

It isn’t as easy to slap that label on her as it was before. Now she’s real, human. He’s felt the beat of her heart against his chest when he lifted her up, carrying to his car, her body too light in his arms, he’s seen her cry over something in her  _ life,  _ a life completely individual from his. It’s harder to brush her off as someone to dislike, to envy, to disregard when she’s slept within inches of him, when she’s trusted him, blindly, instantly. 

Worst of all in this epiphany, in this life change of meeting Kate, is that he’s attracted to her. It’s been so long since he’s even really looked at someone else. The last time he was with someone who wasn’t Ryan was years ago, the night before Mikey left for tour again. It’s something that’s become unfamiliar to him, attraction to another person. She sort of reminds him of Snow White - hair as black as ebony, skin as white as snow, all of that. He can’t deny noticing the subtle curve of her hips, the almost melodious sound of her laugh, and it’s the fucking  _ worst.  _ This was never in the agenda. This was never part of his plan.

He wonders if this was because her and Ryan were soul mates, too. Did that automatically make him and Kate have some kind of… tie? Is that how it works?

Brendon sighs, turning over on his bed. He wishes Ryan was here, so they could talk about it. Ryan always made him understand things better. He wishes he chose to stay with Ryan tonight instead of going home. He forgot how lonely his home feels.

Ryan has always had a strange need to take care of things, to fix and repair and mother, and Brendon’s never seen anyone need as much care as Kate. She looks like she’d break if you touched her, shatter into millions of snow and ebony pieces. It’s concerning, not just because she doesn’t seem okay, but because, well, what if Ryan devotes so much time to fixing her he forgets about Brendon? As much as he forgets it, Ryan is a human, too, just as human as Kate and Brendon. He can’t fix everything, be everything. There has to be some kind of change, some kind of compromise between Kate and Brendon about him. 

Then again, Brendon thinks, turning over one last time, Ryan’s never let him down before. Why is he so worried he will now?

As he finally falls asleep, a nagging voice in the back of his mind whispers,  _ Because before, it didn’t involve  _ her.  _ This time is different. You’re not one of a kind - you’re one of two. _

 

Kate tells Katie and Patrick she met Ryan a couple of days later, in the coffee house.

Katie is excitedly asking what he’s like when Patrick cuts in, looking at Kate in a strange way. “Hey, how did you get that bruise on your face?”

She stiffens, letting go of her coffee to touch the bruise. She’d forgotten about it. “Oh. Yeah, sorry, I, um, got into a bike accident. Not a big deal.”

She knows they don’t believe her, she’s really a god awful liar, but she doesn’t know what else to do. Every time she’s thought about how to tell someone since it happened, it gets harder and harder to get the words out. It’s already hard with Ryan and Brendon knowing - being with them had made her want to hide her face from them, so they couldn’t see that she was that worthless to someone. She didn’t want to admit it, but she was scared that if they realized what she’d done to deserve that, they would hurt her, too.

It’s been two days since she last seen them, and she didn’t know it, but you can suffer withdrawal from a person. She finds herself craving Ryan’s voice in her ear at night, wishing that he was next to her, wishing he was closer, just… wanting him, more badly than she’s ever wanted another person. She wants to touch him, wants to touch his face, his chest, everywhere, really. Being exposed to that kind of warmth means that she’s no longer okay with living without it.

“So, Ryan,” Patrick says after a minute of silence. “What  _ is  _ he like?”

Kate doesn’t know how to describe him. She barely knows him herself. “He’s got dark hair,” she begins. “And he’s really pale. And he makes me feel… good. Warm, is how I’d describe it. He’s nice, too. I’m sure you guys will like him.”

Katie beams at her. “He sounds lovely.”

Kate doesn’t even mean to tell them, but the words escape somehow. “He has two soul mates.” She doesn’t meet their eyes, doesn’t want to see what they think. “It’s not a bad thing,” she says, but even she realizes she says it like a question. “Brendon is… nice, too. I think so, at least. He’s pretty hot.”

Katie laughs, a little nervously. “Wow,  Kate.”

“Yeah,” she sighs. “Just my luck, isn’t it?”

“Hey,” Patrick interjects. “I can’t really imagine how that must be, but I’ve never thought anything negative about those kind of situations. I don’t know. What is it like?”

“Well,” Kate sighs. “I’ve only known them for about twenty four hours, so I can’t really make the call yet, but so far it’s… okay.”

“That’s better than awful,” he smiles at her kindly. “Be careful, though.”

Kate’s lost track of how many times he’s said that to her. She nods. “I will.”

They sit and chat for a while under the cloudy sunshine. The café is almost empty and Kate ends up ordering almost five drinks so they won’t be accused of loitering. Katie and Patrick seem to forget that’s a problem almost everywhere they go. She’s forgotten how much she misses her friends – the way Patrick smiles and how Katie laughs. It’s all so familiar, so comforting. 

After she says goodbye to Katie and Patrick, she goes home to do homework.

Her father is sitting on the couch, reading the newspaper.

She pauses when she sees him, not sure what to say. The thought of what he did makes her insides boil, but suddenly, she wants to tell him that she met her soulmate, because that’s what you’re supposed to do. It’s the biggest thing that happens in life, with the exception of your death.

“Hey, dad,” she says, almost hoping he won’t hear.

He does, and looks up. “Hey, sweetie. What’s up? What happened to your face?”

Katie looks down. “I fell on my bike yesterday. Also, I… I found my soul mate.”

She’s startled when he hugs her tightly. It’s been a while since they hugged - months, probably. It feels unfamiliarly comforting. “That’s great! So what’s his name?”

“Ryan,” she tells him. She can’t tell him about how he has two soulmates. He wouldn’t understand.

“I’m so happy for you,” her father says, hugging her again.

Kate wants to mention that  _ he  _ obviously doesn’t put much by soulmates, but she doesn’t. She doesn’t want to cause anymore hurt than already necessary. There’s been enough hurt already.

She goes to her room, and almost calls Gerard, her finger hovering over his contact for almost a full minute. She wants to call him, but she doesn’t want to hurt him anymore. She isn’t sure if it’s best for him to get distance, or not, so she calls Ryan instead.

“Hey,” Ryan says when he picks up the phone. He sounds breathless, and there’s laughter in his voice and with a stab of jealousy, she wonders if it’s Brendon that made him laugh.

“Can I…” Kate isn’t sure what to say, doesn’t know how to ask to see him. Is it normal to want that?

“Of course,” Ryan says, somehow knowing what she had been going to say. “Of course, you can come.”

It occurs to her he might feel the same way. They’re soulmates, right? It’s possible.

Ryan says he’ll come pick her up and she waits patiently on the sidewalk outside. She doesn’t want to be in her own house anymore, despite the good interaction between her and her father. A car pulls up and Kate recognizes it from the rainy day so long ago, the first time she saw Ryan, soaking wet and laughing.

“Hey,” Brendon rolls down the window. “Get in.”

And so she opens the car door and it’s like, as soon as she’s within five feet of Ryan, she feels okay again. She didn’t even notice her head was hurting until it’s gone, and she feels her body relax.

“Hey,” Ryan and Brendon say again in unison, again.

She isn’t even sure what to say now that she’s with them. She isn’t sure if she needs to say anything, really. She feels warm again, wonderfully warm.  She can hear Brendon and Ryan are talking idly in the passenger and driver seats, their voices hushed.

“Hey,” Kate says, remembering the rainy day. “Hey, who is Spencer?”

Ryan glances at her in the rear view mirror. “How do you know Spencer?”

She bites her lip, trying to explain when she saw him. “I saw you guys across the street from my school. It was raining?”

Ryan’s eyes narrow, as if he’s trying to remember. “Oh! You were sitting on the sidewalk, yeah?”

Kate nods. “Yeah, I was.”

His eyes focus back on the road. “Yeah, Spencer is one of my best friends. He’s a good guy.”

“Kind of bitchy,” Brendon cuts in helpfully.

“A little,” Ryan agrees. “You’ll probably meet him soon.”

“Okay,” Kate says. She thinks of how Jon never let her meet any of his friends – “You wouldn’t like them,” he’d say. Also known as, she was too young. They wouldn’t like  _ her. _

Of course, Ryan isn’t Jon – that much is obvious. The emotion in Ryan’s eyes when he looks at her is already deeper than anything Jon ever felt for her, and she’s pretty sure he’d never drink and drive. He just doesn’t seem like that kind of person.

Ryan’s house looks just as cozy from the outside as it does from the inside. Light is pouring through the windows, fracturing the dark night, and when they step inside, it’s pleasantly warm. The carpet is soft beneath her feet and Brendon hangs back, whispering loudly to Kate, “We’re both terrible cooks, so we’ll probably just order something. If you’re hungry, that is.”

Which is fine with Kate, she’s had enough of gourmet cooking with Jon.

She watches as Brendon flops down on the couch with the familiarity of someone who’s done that a thousand times,  and Ryan calls somewhere (a pizza place, it sounds like) and orders and might die with all the jealously she feels. While she was busy with Gerard and Jon and parties with drugs and alcohol, Brendon and Ryan were spending quiet nights together. Brendon knows Ryan so well, she can tell, and it makes her so jealous because  _ she  _ wants to be the one knowing Ryan well. Not Brendon. 

“Go show Kate around,” Brendon says, laughing and pushing Ryan away after the boy says something Kate can’t hear. She wishes she had.

Ryan grins at her and says, “Come on, Kate, I’ll show you around.”

She follows him up the stairs. She’s surprised at how nice this house is – the kitchen has yellow walls and there’s a cute little shuttered window in it that opens up to a forest-y backyard.

“This is the bedroom,” Ryan tells her, opening up the door. It’s the bedroom she had woken up in with Brendon and Ryan after the night of the gas station, the same yellow as the kitchen. There are big windows with gauzy white curtains and the bed is absolutely huge. It looks bigger than king sized and fluffy with blankets. She supposes you need that sort of bed with three people.

“Are you rich or something?” She asks him, because honestly, what kind of college student can afford this? 

Ryan shugs. “You could say that.”

That’s not much of a surprise - Gig Harbor has always been upperclass, for the moderately wealthy. Almost everyone she knows has plenty of money, trust funds, private schooling.

He flashes a smile at her before leading the way to the next door. “This is a second bedroom. There’s three in total and I have nothing to do with the other two. I don’t know why we have that many.”

She nods and is surprised when he takes her hand to lead her back downstairs. His hand is warm and dry and she feels heat radiate from the spot he’s touching her.

“This is the living room, obviously, and there’s the kitchen.” Brendon waves at them as Ryan opens a glass door to the dining room. “Here’s where we eat.”

They return to the kitchen and Ryan perches on the counter. The lighting is catching in his dark hair and making him look almost angelic.

She’s still surprised by how comfortable she is here – she’s not searching for what to say or what she should do with her arms or hair or anything. Everything feels… okay.

Brendon sits down next to her. “So Kate, tell us about yourself.”

She tilts her head. “What do you want to know?”

“Everything,” Ryan says. “What’s your favorite color? Food? Animal? Where did you go on vacations when -”

“Ryan, shut up,” Brendon sighs. “You’re being weird. “ He turns to Kate. “Ignore him. Just tell us about your life, yeah?”

Which isn’t that easy, really, but she supposes she could try, for Ryan. “Um,” she begins. “Okay, I guess. I got my tattoo when I was six.”

Ryan’s eyes are wide and he’s listening to her with obvious concentration. She takes a deep breath. “It said ‘r’, obviously, and my parents and I played a game where we guessed what name it was. Someone guessed Ryan, I can’t remember who.” She closes her eyes. “I felt… like that name was special. It meant something. When I was eight, I saw the news report about Victoria Asher.” She opens her eyes. “I never thought it was weird, or abnormal, or wrong, by the way. I mean, that she had two soul mates. My dad said to turn it off, but I never really agreed with his views on it. I think it’s fine, you know, not their choice and all of that.”

She notices the relief in his eyes, and wonders how he can ever think she would think he was wrong or abnormal. Even if she  _ did  _ think that having two soul mates was weird, the second she met Ryan, she wouldn’t care.

“And then, I met Geordie, when I was fifteen.”

“Geordie  _ fucking  _ Gray,” Brendon snarled. “I hate her so much.”

“Why?” Kate asks, surprised at the vemon behind his words. 

Ryan puts a hand on Brendon’s shoulder and says to Kate, “Geordie cheated on me with a boy named Troye and Brendon has never quite forgiven her.” His smile is wry and almost bitter.

“You dated Geordie?” She demands, shocked. She can’t see Geordie and Ryan together – Geordie, so classically beautiful and Ryan and the way his collarbone is almost too prominent and narrowness of his face. It’s definitely a strange image.

“Yeah,” Ryan sighs. “Only for a couple of weeks, though.”

Brendon still looks angry when the doorbell rings and Ryan jumps up to get it.

While he’s gone, Brendon sighs, unlocking his arms. “I hate that she hurt him,” he whispers, just loud enough for Kate to hear.

And she hasn’t been with Ryan nearly as long as Brendon but she knows exactly what he’s talking about.

“I know,” she whispers back. It’s weird to exchange whispers with Brendon, quietly and intimately, but she tries to get used to it.

“He didn’t deserve it,” Brendon sighs before Ryan comes back in with the pizza.

“Okay,” Ryan says after he puts the box down. “Go on.”

“Well,” Kate thinks for a moment. “I liked her a lot, but she never liked me. I’m not quite sure why we were friends - she was so much older than me. But we were, and I loved it at the time.”

“I’ve always wondered about Geordie’s fetish for younger people,” Brendon ponders as he takes a bite of pizza. 

“She’s not a pedophile, Bren,” Ryan rolls his eyes.

“Never said she was. Okay, Kate, go on.”

“Right,” she says, tearing her gaze away from where Ryan is delicately picking pepperoni off his pizza. Were fingers supposed to be that long? “I met Jon at a party Geordie took me to, and we hit it off. We sort of, you know, slept together and then after that, we started dating. It was… good,” she pauses, thinking about how Jon was in the beginning. She isn’t sure when that changed. 

“God,” Ryan shakes his head, his eyes narrowing. “I can’t even - I…  God, Kate, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she tells him. “I’m here, now.”

“Yes, you are,” their eyes meet, and Ryan’s eyes are truly gorgeous. Clear, bright brown, warm. It’s hard to look away.

Brendon clears his throat, and she starts. “Sorry.”

They stare at her expectantly, but she keeps her head down, eating her pizza. She doesn’t want to talk about this anymore, doesn’t want to mention her mother or drugs or Trevor. She doesn’t like the cold feeling of shame that manifests in her stomach when she thinks about them.

Eventually,Ryan starts throwing joking insults at Brendon and Brendon retorts with just as clever ones and Kate laughs at them and Brendon and her have a sort of conversation about music, and though its halting and short, it’s progress. Being with them makes it easier for her to imagine the future the three of them could have.

She falls asleep between them on the sofa, Ryan’s head in her lap and her head on Brendon’s shoulder, the soft sound of their breathing filling her ears.

 

God, Kate hates Brendon.

She hates Brendon, and she hates it even more that she doesn’t hate him, not really. He’s sweet, and kind and funny and it’s impossible to hate him, actually hate him. It’s more a frustrating mix of jealousy and resentment and something else, something that is very akin to attraction. It makes her want to kick things and kiss him, at the same time.

Her feelings towards Ryan are even more staggering, but easier to understand – this overwhelming, all-consuming adoration and love. All she wants to do is protect him, all she wants to do is kiss him and hold his hand and be there in the morning with him and taste his skin and  _ god,  _ she wants to kiss him. That’s the main thing she thinks about in his company. Kissing Ryan. 

The second time she sees Gerard after what happened with Jon, he’s still feeling guilty.

“I should have stopped you,” he tells her, raking a hand through his fire engine red hair. “I should have stopped you from doing it so much, and that night at Jon’s, I knew something was going to happen.” He strokes her cheek, where the bruise still lingers, with a unfamiliar tenderness. “I should have stayed. I’ve been thinking about it a lot, since I saw your face.”

“It’s okay,” she says, because it is, it really is. “I needed to see how he was, and honestly…”

Gerard’s smile is wry. “You wouldn’t have met Ryan if it didn’t happen.”

She blushes but shrugs. “Yeah.”

He laughs but Kate has spent enough time with him to know the difference between his real laugh and his fake one. His eyes are bright with pain.

She wants to take him into her arms and apologize but doesn’t because that would just hurt him more. She never meant to give him another person to love only to take it away. She didn’t know it would happen this way.

So she just sits in silence with him, and  hopes it’ll be enough.

 

As soon as Gerard saw her at that party, with her dark hair against her pale shoulders, the way she was watching Pete and Ashlee, he knew it was going to end badly.

But he still slept with her, still watched her wake up under the morning sun, knows what sounds she makes when you make her feel really good, knows the face she makes when you make her happy. He knows the exact spot on her neck to kiss if you want to make her squirm and he’s spent hours tracing her face when she was asleep.

Of  _ course  _ he was going to fall in love with her. After nights upon nights of sitting in his car, talking about things he’s never told anyone else, after days going into gas stations and buying too many candy bars, after evenings spent wrapped around her body, how could he not?

Of course. Of  _ course. _

He takes a deep, ragged breath. He’s sitting in his car in the parking lot of some grocery store, his forehead on the steering wheel, his eyes closed. His head hurts and his shoulders hurt and everything hurts, from the top of his head to the tips of his toes.

Running through his mind are images he won’t ever be able to forget – Pete and Ashlee, kissing furiously in the hallways at parties, her gorgeous red hair falling down her black, his deep brown eyes sometimes open, sometimes not as he stares at her like she’s something otherworldly. The drunken laughter in the dark, the jokes between all three of them. Kate, her almost-black hair tangled in his fingers, Kate laughing in the passenger’s seat, Kate’s cheeks crinkling as she smiles at him, Kate looking at Ryan Ross with something in her eyes he’s never seen before. 

He hits the steering wheel a couple of times, grimacing as his knuckles ache. He hates soul mates and he hates Ryan fucking Ross and he hates everything, himself included and those little letters on his wrist. 

There’s only four things that could get him out of this feeling and three of those are people. The other thing, he spreads across the dashboard and crushes into powder with his keys. He has to do more and more, especially when he does it every day. It’s fucked up, and he gets nosebleeds way too much for Mikey not to notice when he’s home from his fucking touring. Gerard’s seen the concerned looks shot across dining room tables, he’s seen the lip bites, noticed the way his sock drawer is always altered after he comes home. 

Gerard snorts at the thought of his parents searching his room for coke. Like he’d ever keep it in any of those dumbass hiding spots. He’s not fucking stupid, even though everyone seems to think he was. 

Everyone but Kate, that is. And Ashlee, and Pete. They didn’t, he knew they didn’t. If they had, they wouldn’t have spent so much time with him. Wouldn’t have loved him like they did, and he knew they did. Ashlee and Pete had told him so.

_ “But only as a friend,”  _ they’d laughed, laying naked in the back of Pete’s car. “ _ Only as a friend.” _

The thought makes his brain hurt. He knew from the second they’d approached him with the god damned idea of having a threeway that it was going to end up with him getting fucked (and sadly, not just literally), but he’d been too love sick to say no. How could he? Everything he’d wanted, presented to him in the neat little package of a couple of words. He’d be with them, and be a part of them, like they were with each other. He’d  _ belong. _

But of course, it hadn’t worked out. They’d fucked more times than he could count, sometimes slow and passionate, sometimes fast and hard and full of Ashlee’s moans, sometimes in the soft grass of a park, not having sex, just laying there in each other’s arms. 

It had ended slowly, gradually. It had ended in Ashlee forgetting to text him goodnight. It had ended in Pete forgetting to pick him up for a movie. It had ended with small things, like seeing the raindrops fall but not knowing it was a thunderstorm until you were fucking drowning. And Gerard was. He was drowning.

And then Kate had come.

At the thought, he takes another hit, inhales some more. God,  _ Kate.  _ Kate was… she was something. Before he met her, he had heard of her, of course. The young girl, not even legal, that Jon Walker was fucking.  _ Jailbait,  _ most of his friends had referred to her as. And Gerard, upon first glance, had to agree. Long dark hair, those big eyes, that slim, soft waist. Jon Walker was fucking lucky for getting that, and though he’d always thought it was kind of gross that Jon was with someone so young, he couldn’t deny seeing the appeal.

But then he’d met her, actually met her. And everything changed.

Kate wasn’t jailbait. Kate wasn’t fuckable. Kate was the sort of girl you sobered the fuck up for, the sort of girl you got a job for, so you could come home and kiss her and watch romantic comedies with her, sitting on the couch with your two perfect children. Kate wasn’t just big eyes and dark hair - she also had the sweetest laugh Gerard had ever heard, and  fucking great at Scrabble, and told funnier jokes than even Ray, Mikey’s hilarious bandmate. Kate was undeniably, unavoidably perfect, but she was also undeniably, unavoidably  _ shattered. _

Gerard had thought Pete was fucked up. Gerard had thought Pete was the saddest a person was capable of being. He was wrong. He had never seen emptier eyes than those of Kate’s.

It hit him hard every time he realized it - realized how sad she was. He was reminded of it in the droop of her shoulders, the dark spots of blood on her pale skin when her nose bled, the shaking of her hands. He was reminded of it every time he had to drop her off at that god damn house, was reminded of it in the coughs that racked through her body when she took too large of a hit. 

Kate, to him, was perfection at its weakest point. And he loved her. Had he mentioned that? He loved her with the kind of passion Gerard never thought he’d ever feel. It was the kind of love that made him feel redeemed for all the fucked up shit he did. It was the kind of love that was as selfless as was possible.

He just wanted her to be happy. And now she was -  _ is.  _ And he has to be okay with that, no matter how much it fucking tears him apart.

 

Patrick has anger management problems.

People have told him that before. His mother, Andy, Jon, and even Katie. But he never thought much of it until he met a boy with caramel colored hair and sky blue eyes with the name of Spencer.

The boy, older than Patrick by at least two years, is friendly looking, with a wide smile that crinkles the corners of his eyes and perfect lips. He’s wearing a polo shirt - a  _ polo shirt -  _ and Patrick’s least favorite thing about him is how likeable he seems. 

He sees the blue-lavender “ _ kati”  _ on Spencer’s wrist and the world slows down for a minute, freezing in a hue of bright red. He isn’t even sure what’s going on right now - only that he’s angry, he’s  _ really, really angry,  _ and he wants to kill Spencer.

“Don’t,” Andy whispers in his ear, his voice tight. “Calm down. ‘Trick, come on.”

Patrick hears him, but it takes a few seconds for the words to register.  He’s hardly ever angry, really – but when he is, he’s  _ angry.  _ Like,  _ really  _ angry.

“Hi,” Spencer beams, like beam of fucking sunshine. “I’m Spencer Smith.”

Patrick wants to leap across the table and choke him, show him what he actually thinks of him, but a threatening look from Andy keeps him glued in his seat. As angry as he, he’s not nearly as big as his ginger friend and doesn’t want to risk his face.

“M’Patrick,” Patrick says glumly, keeping his eyes focused on the sky so everyone there knows how absolutely done with this he is.

“Nice to meet you,” Spencer sticks his hand out but that lavender “ _ kati”  _ on his wrist is almost taunting Patrick, so he ignores him.

Andy elbows Patrick, but no way in hell does he actually expect him to shake this fucker’s hand, and Spencer Smith eventually gets the message and slowly lowers his hand, his cheeks pink.

“It’s nice to meet you, too,” Andy says quickly. “Sorry about Patrick here, he’s a little… crazy.”

At that, Patrick glares at him because um, he’s  _ perfectly  _ sane last time he checked, but Andy ignores him.

“Well,” Spencer bites that annoyingly perfect bottom lip. “Um, I just wanted to introduce myself because I just, um, moved here but I have to… yeah. I have to go.”

Andy waves goodbye and the second Spencer’s out of earshot, he turns on Patrick. “That was incredibly rude.”

“Did you  _ see  _ the letters on his wrist?” Patrick demands, his voice rising. “He’s Katie’s soul mate.”

Andy glares at him. “So what, dude? It’s not like it’s his fault. And Katie will be pissed when she hears about this.”

Alarmed, he turns to face his ginger friend quickly. “What do you mean,  _ when?  _ You aren’t going to tell her, are you?” As much as Patrick’s reaction was totally justified, Katie would definitely be angry at him, and probably start talking about that therapy idea again. 

Andy’s about to say something when they’re interrupted by a buoyant. “Hey, guys!”

“Hi,” Andy says.

“Hey,” Patrick grins, feeling considerably less angry already.

Katie, Katie, Katie. She’s his best friend and she has wonderful curly hair and the prettiest eyes Patrick’s ever seen and long eyelashes. She smiles brighter than the sun and always holds his hand and her head always finds the right spot on his shoulder. He doesn’t think he’s ever loved another person as much as he loves her.

As if she could read his thoughts (which honestly wouldn’t surprise Patrick, at this point) she slips his hand into his and squeezes. Patrick squeezes back, trying to curb the butterflies in his stomach that still occur when Katie is near. It’s completely ridiculous but he doesn’t mind one iota.

Ever since Kate started spending all her days with Jon, Andy, Patrick and Katie had all become pretty close. Andy was a drummer and had this crazy mom who had already let him get like three tattoos. His shock of red hair and his passionate refusal to eating meat made him Patrick’s second favorite person ever.

Katie though. Katie is probably the love of his life and one time, he got sick and she came over and spent all day with him and got him soup and kept him warm and comfortable and kissed him, despite Patrick’s warnings about how she’ll get sick – and she did, a week later and he took care of her, too. It had made him laugh at her and told her he told her so, but he had secretly loved that she was willing to get sick just to kiss him.

Andy likes to make jokes about marriage and Katie and Patrick always avoid each other’s gazes because what are you supposed to say to that? That technically, they shouldn’t get married because on Patrick’s wrist is the name “ _ pete” _ and on Katie’s is the name “ _ spencer” _ , that they have hardly any chance of it working out, that Patrick is scared they’ll break up and never speak again, that he would love to marry her but can’t? 

No. He never says any of that because you’re not supposed to get married when you’re seventeen and not soul mates and though Patrick wouldn’t hesitate to not care about his soul mate and just be with her, their world isn’t one that allows them to be together, and he isn’t sure if she feels the same, if she’s just as willing to forget the blue name on her wrist as much as he is willing to forget his.

So they don’t mention it. It’s probably better that way.

Sometimes, they talk about Kate.

Patrick’s been worried about Kate for a long time now. Ever since he met her, really. Kate always seemed so… closed off. It got worse when  her mom died and those awful shadows appeared under her eyes and Patrick and Katie barely saw her anymore, and then the one day she showed up with a bruise that looked suspiciously like a hand across her face with the excuse of a bike accident.

They all knew it wasn’t a bike accident. They weren’t stupid. But no one said anything. 

That’s how it’s always been, Patrick thinks, between all three of them. None of them ever mentioned Kate’s nosebleeds, the weird people she spent her time with (Gerard Way?), never talk about the bruises on her arms, or those awful coughing fits. Him and Katie both knew what was going on - they just didn’t know what to do to help, didn’t know if there was anything they could do.

He knew that Katie was worried about her, Kate. He was, too, immensely. One time, Katie had broken down crying and though she hadn’t told him why, he knew it was because of the bike accident lie. It had made him want to cry, too. 

 

At some point, he knows, Ryan is going to have to talk to Kate about what happened.

They’ve gone several days without ever mentioning the fading bruise on her cheek or the way she coughs too much or how much cocaine she did over the time period she did it, or if she still did it, or if she was going to stop anytime soon. It killed him to think about her doing that. It was so dangerous, and so unsafe, and she was already so fragile.

Ryan’s seen the look of concern in Brendon’s eyes when Kate is watching TV and starts coughing so hard her whole body breaks and he’s seen the way Kate purses and unpurses her lips, like something inside her mouth is hurting. He’s seen the nosebleeds, so bright against her pale skin.

He, Ryan, has been concerned himself when he sees the way she winces whenever someone brushes against her arm, and oh god, the worst part, how she flinches whenever Ryan raises his hand. Like there’s some kind of instinctual fear that he’s going to hurt her. Like that asshole  _ Jon. _

The idea makes Ryan sick. He would  _ never  _ hurt her. He can’t even think of the idea without feeling revulsion like his body is rejecting the thought. Him, being the one making Kate cry. His fault.

He flinches.

“You okay?” Brendon asks. They’re sitting at Ryan’s kitchen table, sunlight streaming through the window and hands clasped over the wood. Brendon had been composing for the last hour, but now he’s looking up.

“Yeah,” Ryan shakes his head. “Sorry. I was just thinking about…”

“Her?” Brendon mouths, jerking his head to where Kate is curled up on the couch, sleeping. There’s still a little bit of dried blood around her nose from her last nosebleed, and as he’s watching, she makes a noise and turns over.

Ryan nods. “I’m worried.”

“I am too, and she isn’t even my soul mate,” Brendon sighs.

They lock eyes. Ryan probably won’t ever get over how much he appreciates Brendon. Brendon is always there whenever he needs him (which is always) and he always knows what Ryan is thinking and what to do. Well, usually, he does. It seems they’re both lost on what course of action to take with the small, dark haired girl currently sleeping on their couch.

“I love you,” Ryan rests his head on the table, exhaling heavily.

“I love you, too,” Brendon says back, his voice tender, running his fingers through Ryan’s hair.

They sit like that for a while, the room bright with sunlight, and Kate’s snuffly sleep noises breaking the silence every now and then.

“I love her,”  Ryan tells him, his voice muffled by the wood. He knows he barely knows her, but god, it fucks him up how much he loves her, already. It’s scary. At least this time, he knows what to expect. It was this way with Brendon, too. An instant devotion that grabbed onto the deepest parts of him and refused to let go.

“I know,” Brendon replies easily. Ryan knows better, though, knows that behind that is so much insecurity and hurt, more than Brendon would ever tell him.

“I love you, too,” Ryan says desperately, hoping Brendon’ll understand. The guilt he feels, continuously, about all of this - about Kate, and letting her go and see Jon, about Brendon, and the pain in his eyes when Ryan mentioned Kate, about  _ everything. _

“I know,” he says. “I knew you would. Love her, that is. She’s your soulmate.”

“I need both of you,” Ryan doesn’t want to look up and see Brendon’s eyes. “You take care of me, and I need to take of her and you and I just…. Don’t know how to explain it. I love you both.”

Brendon doesn’t say anything, just continues stroking his head and Ryan closes his eyes, wishing things could be easier but not really sure what he’s wishing for. This is what he’s always wanted. Him, Brendon, Kate. His two people, his soulmates, with him at last. He feels more complete than he’s ever felt before and he knows there’s no way to explain that to Brendon, explain there is no need for his hurt, his fear, his insecurities. That him and Kate, to Ryan, are just… everything, and that he’d never be able to leave either of them. 

Ryan meets Brendon’s warm gaze, hoping to convey all these impossible words with his eyes. He can’t tell if Brendon understands or not, but he doesn’t look so sad anymore, which is a good sign.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I’m sorry, Bren.”

Brendon catches his hand and presses it against the warm skin of his cheek. “Don’t be,” he murmurs, closing his eyes. “Ryan Ross, there is no need for apologies. None of this is your fault.”

Ryan’d like to believe that, but the truth is, he hates himself. He hates himself, and there is no way around that. He hates himself for the hurt he’s caused Brendon, his wonderful Brendon. He hates himself for causing one of his soulmate’s to lose his family. He hates himself for not getting to Kate sooner, for not stopping that asshole Jon from hurting her. Most of all, he hates that because of him, Kate and Brendon will have to face the subtle discrimination from everyone, forever. There won’t be anywhere they can go without the cutting words, the cruel subtext, the pity. And that, all of that, is solely Ryan’s fault.

 


	7. Chapter 7

The first day Kate spends alone with Brendon, it’s pouring rain and they’re in the park. She suspects Ryan is trying to make things better by leaving them alone for long periods of time. It’s happened before, and it was just awkward as this time.

“The rain makes Ryan’s “bones feel cold,”” Brendon says, using his fingers as quotation marks. “So I can’t do this with him.”

They’re sitting on a bench under a weeping willow tree, the rain hitting the ground loudly around them. Kate tries to pretend he isn’t her soulmate’s other soulmate, and laughs. “I love the rain.”

Brendon turns to smile at her, his hair plastered to his forehead and making him look younger than usual. “I do, too.”

He’s sitting close enough to her on the bench that she can feel the warmh radiate out from him, like he’s literally the sun. He shifts, and his knee touches hers, causing heat to spread up her leg.

“My family kicked me out when they found out that Ryan had two soul mates,” Brendon says suddenly.

Kate’s heart breaks a little at the sadness in his voice. 

“Sorry,” he says after a moment. “I just wanted you to know that it’s not easy for me, either. You. You aren’t easy for me.”

She doesn’t say anything for a minute before responding. “Why did they kick you out?”

He clears his throat. “They thought it was wrong. Thought it was wrong that I wanted to stay with him when he already had “one of me.””

Kate closes her eyes, not wanting to think about that, not wanting to think about a fifteen year old Brendon, having to leave his home. “I’m sorry,” she says, even though it doesn’t really get across what she wants to say.

He shrugs. “It’s okay. I knew as soon as I saw the other letters on his wrist that this was going to be hard. Not just because of the prejudice, but because of you. I always thought I was a monogamous person,” he laughs, and it’s genuine. “I was actually pretty possessive. Of course this would happen. Of course.”

“Well,” she doesn’t look at him. “If it makes you feel better, I don’t think I’m very monogamous.”

It’s not funny, and she isn’t even sure he knows what she means, but they both start to laugh. It’s too happy of a sound for the gloomy day that surrounds them.

“You scare me,” he tells her, his voice serious again. “You scare me a lot. I don’t have anything but Ryan. I don’t have many friends, or a family, or anything. If I lose him, I…” He doesn’t finish the sentence.

“I don’t want to take him from you,” she says, surprised to learn it’s true. “I don’t want that. I want us to be able to figure this out, if not for us, then for Ryan. Honestly, I think you’re better than me. You never did cocaine or any drugs or had sex with someone just to get drugs. If either of us is going to get Ryan, it’s you.”

“That doesn’t define your worth,” Brendon insists, and she’s surprised by the forcefulness of his voice. “You know it doesn’t, right? He doesn’t care.  _ I  _ don’t care.”

“You don’t have to say that.”

“I’m not just saying this. It’s true. Do you think I haven’t done stupid shit? Believe me, I’ve tried my share of drugs. Once, I tried to leave Ryan.”

Kate stares at him. “You… what?”

“Yeah,” he nods. “I tried to leave him. About a year and a half ago. I was angry because he had just seen you for the first time, and he wouldn’t shut up about you, and Mikey - you know, Mikey Way - invited me on tour with him. I told him yes.”

“What the fuck, Brendon?” 

He grimaces. “Don’t worry, I know. I came home and told Ryan I was leaving, that I couldn’t do this.”

“What did he say?” 

“He told me he’d been expecting it, and that he hoped I’d be happy.”

Kate doesn’t quite understand. “Okay…? So what happened? Obviously, you’re still here.”

“Him saying that made me realize how fucking stupid I was being. I told him I was sorry, and we made up. But ever since then, Ryan gets really scared when I don’t come home for a while. Rightfully so,” he shakes his head ruefully. “Honestly, that wasn’t cool of me. Ryan has some serious abandonment issues.”

“Why?”   
Brendon smiles at her, not unkindly. “I think he should tell you himself.”

He’s right. Kate doesn’t say anything, watching the rain. She doesn’t like that Brendon knows so much about Ryan, things that will take years for her to know. 

On the other hand, Brendon Urie isn’t just her rival. He has his own life, his own friends, things about him completely separate from Ryan. Talking to him today has proved that. It’s harder to see him objectively now. Kate decides to push the fact that he’s Brendon, Ryan’s soulmate, out of her mind. It will make being around him easier for both of them. 

Brendon is funny and nice, and they don’t talk about Ryan for the best of the day. They talk about Gerard, a topic Brendon enjoys because he dated Mikey Way.

“God,” Brendon laughs, his cheeks crinkling. “He sounds  _ so  _ much bitchier than Mikey. Mikey is a sweetheart. He always bought me gifts and stuff.”

“Well, Gerard and I never technically dated,” Kate shrugs, smiling. “We just, you know… had a sort of thing.”

“Right,” he snorts. “I never would have guessed that from seeing you guys - Gerard adores you. It’s cute, and sad.”

She shifts uncomfortably. It makes her sad to think about that, how much she’s probably hurting Gerard. Brendon picks up on her unease and changes the subject to Mikey’s bandmates.

“Let me tell you,” he says seriously. “I’ve never met anyone who’s done as much acid as Bob. I’m serious, I’ve seen Mikey be like, “okay guys, we’re on in ten,” and Bob’s just, you know, fucking tripping on the side of the stage, and they all just sigh.”

She laughs. “I’ve never done acid.”

Brendon raises an eyebrow. “So you just went straight for the top, huh? One cigarette and then boom, cocaine addiction?”

“No,” she pauses, then amends what she said. “Not quite. I’ve smoked like, marijunan and dranken. I’ve just never done hallucingeons. It seems scary.”

“It’s not,” Brendon tells her. “Well, it can be. But I think you’d like it. You could do it with us. Ryan and I, that is.”

“Okay,” she agrees, not sure if she’ll ever actually do it. She’s seen people on LSD and it never seemed that fun to her.

When they go back to Ryan’s house, they’re both soaking wet and Kate is laughing at something Brendon said. Ryan watches them from the living room, and smiles.

 

Brendon and Kate’s relationship starts slowly, carefully, and there are still moments of awkward silences, and she often catches him looking at her with a weird expression on his face, some kind of resentment and affection. Things between them change when Ryan’s around. They both pretend everything between them is great, as good as can be, so they don’t have to see the look on his face when they fight. It’s a silent agreement, to leave Ryan out of their subtle competition.

When they’re alone, which happens a lot over the next few days, because Ryan has work and Gerard is out of town, they get along better than she could have hoped. He’s possibly the funniest person she’s ever met. He tells her one day that he has ADHD and after that, she can’t help but notice the way he speaks, too fast, like he’s afraid he’ll forget what he’s going to say if he doesn’t say it fast enough, and how he doesn’t really walk, he bounces, and how annoyingly cute it is.

Unintentionally, she tells him about her mother before Ryan.

They’re at the ice rink, and Brendon is next to her, panting and red cheeked as he tries to get his skates off. They’re only there because Brendon teaches lessons to little kids, and Ryan had dropped her off before work. 

“What’s your mom like?” He asks her as he fiddles with a knot in the laces.

“She’s dead,” Kate replies. It’s so easy to say, and it feels unfair that such simple words are used to describe something so life changing, one of the biggest losses a person can experience. “She died a year ago.”

She doesn’t look at him, but she notices when his hands stop messing with the laces. “How she’d die?”

It’s such a weird question - who asks someone how they died? - that she tells him the truth, another painfully simple sentence. “She killed herself because my dad cheated on her.”

“Fuck,” he says. “Jesus. What the fuck, Kate, why is your life so  _ shitty?” _

She laughs, and it sounds sort of hysterical even to her. “I don’t know. Maybe I did something when I was young to deserve it.”

She doesn’t realize how sad of a thought that is until Brendon doesn’t say anything for a long time.

“Oh,” she says. “Sorry. I don’t really, you know, think that.” She looks at him, and immediately wishes she hadn’t. He’s looking at her with a soft look in his eyes, one close to pity but not quite.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, his eyes not leaving her. “I’m really, really sorry.”

She shrugs. “It’s okay.”

When he hugs her, it comes as a surprise, but is, she learns, exactly what she needed. His arms are tight around her, and she finds herself fighting back tears.

“So is that why you hardly ever go home?” Brendon asks when he pulls back.

She nods. “My dad is busy a lot, and he calls me every night to check up on me. I don’t think he really… cares.” The words are hard to force out.

He sighs, and hugs her again. This time, thinking about how he lost his family, too, because of a tattoo that spelled her name, she hugs him back.

 

A couple of days later, Kate’s father calls and asks where she’s been, which results in her having to agree to coming home for a couple of days, unfortunately. 

“What about school?” Her father demands over the phone. 

“I still go,” she tells him. “Sorry, I’ve just been… hanging out with Geordie, at her house.”

Her father sighs. “Well, come home, Kate. I miss you. I’ve just gotten back from New York.”

She snorts derisively, but he doesn’t notice, and they hang up after she agrees to come home.

“You could move in with me,” Ryan says, noticing the look on her face. “I have so much room.” He turns to Brendon. “You could too, idiot. I don’t know why you haven’t.”

They start talking about selling Brendon’s apartment, and if all three of them would fit in the big bedroom, and Kate starts to think about what that would be like - living with Ryan and Brendon. She’d get to belong to them as much as they belong to each other, would get to enjoy the same things Brendon does, like waking up with him, not just for a couple of days, but for forever.

“It’d probably be easier to wait,” Ryan turns to face her. “You’re, you know, now eighteen yet so I don’t think it’s really that possible. Your dad is already okay with you being here a lot, anyways.”

He has a point, Kate knows, as much as she wishes that wasn’t the case.

“Yeah,” she agrees. “Well. I have to go home now. Ryan, could you drive me?”   
“Of course,” he says. “Bren, toss me the keys.”

As she steps outside, she catches Brendon’s eye and he smiles at her, and waves. She waves back, still unsure on how to navigate this new relationship.

Once they’ve started driving, Ryan takes her hand.  His fingers are long and slender, tapering off into nothing. Everything about Ryan is slender and slim, a contrast of dark and pale. His skin is warm and Kate thinks that in every time she had sex with Jon, no matter how good he made her feel, it’s nothing compared to how she feels when Ryan holds her hand.

“Brendon mentioned your mom,” he says after a moment of silence.

“Oh,” she looks out the window, watching the dark houses flit by. It’s a clear night - she can almost see the moon. “Yeah, I told him about that.”   
He squeezes her hand, and tentatively, she squeezes back. 

“You know,” he says, his eyes on the road. “Brendon isn’t a bad guy.”

Kate immediate stiffens. She doesn’t want to hear about Brendon, and how good he is. She tries to pull her hand away, but Ryan won’t let her.

“No, sorry, listen to me,” he intercepts quickly, holding onto her more tightly. “I’m sorry that this is how it is.” He pauses, doesn’t say anything for a second, before continuing. “I’m certain you guys would have been really good friends if it wasn’t for…  _ this.” _

“Not necessarily,” Kate argues. “You have no idea what we would have been. We probably never would have met.”

“Okay, okay,” he chuckles. “You’re right. But I want you to be friends. I want this to work, but I don’t know  _ how.”  _ The frustration in his voice is palpable, and it makes her feel bad about the resentful looks her and Brendon often exchange. “I’m hurting you.”

Kate looks up sharply. “That’s not true. You’re not hurting me.”

“Yeah,” Ryan sighs raggedly. “I am. This is my fault.”

“No,” she protests. “I’m serious, this isn’t your fault. You can’t control this, and honestly, Brendon and I should figure things out more. It’s not you.” He still isn’t looking at her, so she keeps going. “I mean, you saw me at the gas station that night. I was really, really bad, and you saved me. What would have happened if you hadn’t been there?”

“I don’t like to think about,” he tells her quietly, as they pull up at her house. They sit in silence for a moment, and it’s half a surprise, half expected when he kisses her. Her mind goes blank for a second, because this is what she has wanted - to kiss Ryan. It’s better than she imagined. His lips are slightly chapped under hers and his fingertips are resting like feathers on the curve of her neck. Everything comes to a standstill in that moment – it’s all quiet and dark and bloodstreams and racing hearts.

She pulls back, after a few seconds. Ryan’s cheeks are flushed pink and his eyes are shining and she wants to freeze this moment and take a picture of it, so she can remember it forever. 

“I should go,” she whispers. He stares at her for a second, and something in his eyes makes her blush, before he quickly nods. 

“Right, um, yeah.”

“Bye,” she says quietly, stepping out of the car and into the cold night.

“Goodbye. Sweet dreams,” she hears him say before closing the door.

After the heat of being inside the car with Ryan, her house seems even emptier than usual. Colder.

Her father is sitting on the couch and next to him a woman. She’s got curly red hair and wide green eyes and a smattering of freckles across her nose, and wow, Kate hates her so much already, it’s a little surprising.

Her dad swallows whatever it is he’s eating and smiles. “Hey, Kate, you made it! How was Geordie’s?”

“Good,” she tells him, not taking her eyes off the woman on the couch. Her father notices and grins again.

“This is Rachel. Rachel, this is Kate.”

Rachel smiles at her, and nods. That simple gesture makes anger ignite in her, and it takes all of her willpower to grit out, “Hello,” before she practically runs upstairs, desperately wishing she could return to the warmth Ryan had given her when they kissed.

She relives the way his skin felt on hers, the way his eyes looked after, and sleeps better at night than she could have hoped.

 

Every morning, Rachel is there when she wakes up. Kate just walks by her, not bothering to talk to her. She’s there every evening, too, and Kate can’t wait to go back and spend her nights at home – Brendon and Ryan’s house. That home already has the kind of comfort that her house has been lacking for years.

She sighs as she watches her shoes slap against the wet pavement as she walks home. It’s started raining again; the cold, dreary kind she can feel in her bones, the kind that is almost snow, but not quite.

Being back at her house makes her head ache, and she only lasts an hour before calling Gerard.

“Please get me out of here,” she says the second he picks up the phone.

“Wow, that bad?” He asks sympathetically. 

“Yeah, it’s awful. My dad has a  _ girlfriend.” _

“Do you want me to pick you up?”   
“Please. I’d love you forever.”

Gerard laughs oddly, and agrees. Kate hangs up and runs down the stairs, yanking on her jacket and telling her father she’s going out. 

“Be home by ten, young lady,” he calls as she buttons her coat.

“Right,” she says. “Sure.”

It’s only a minute or so longer before Gerard’s familiar car pulls up outside. She yells goodbye to her father and runs outside.

“God,” Gerard laughs as she flings herself in his car, panting. “Good to see you, too.”

She smiles at him, sitting up. “It is, isn’t it? It’s been like, a week.”

“Yeah, probably the longest time yet. I’m proud.”

“Told you I wasn’t addicted,” she says proudly, even though she knows that this week had been hell for her, probably because of cocaine, or lack thereof.

“Uh-huh,” he snorts. “Good job, I guess. Really, though, I missed you.”

Pleasantly surprised by the sentiment, she takes his hand. “I missed you, too, Gee.”

They drive for a while, talking about the party Gerard went to the last weekend, and how much it sucked.

“Jon looks awful,” he tells her, obviously taking pleasure from that fact. “Terrible. He looks exhausted and his clothes are all wrinkled and mismatched. When he saw me, he looked terrified. It was  _ great.” _

Though the mention of Jon makes her feel sort of sick, she laughs. “I’m sure you enjoyed that.”

“Oh, I did,” he nods. “How is being with Brendon and Ryan?”

Kate takes a little bit to answer, thinking of what she could say to describe it. “It’s good,” she finally says. “Me and Brendon have a lot to work out, though. We don’t really… get along.”

“Too bad, he’s hot,” he shakes his head. “Seriously hot. I was always a little jealous of Mikey, honestly -”

“Shut up,” she tells him, laughing again. “I know he’s hot, believe me, I have  _ noticed.” _

Gerard raises an eyebrow at her. “Really?”

Realizing what she said, she blushes, staring down at her hands. “I don’t know. Yeah, I have. He’s really…”  _ Magnetic. Warm. Tantalizing.  _ “... hard to explain. I don’t like him, but I really like him at the same time.”

“I’ve always wondered what it was like between the two non-soulmates,” he says thoughtfully as they pull into his house and he turns off the car. “How does it feel?”

“Well,” Kate reclines her seat, putting her feet on the dashboard. “When I forget Brendon and I’s predicament, I really like him. He’s… so pretty, and funny, and charming. I think I’ve spent more time with him than Ryan, because Ryan has work after I get out of school and he always has Brendon pick me up.”

“He probably wants you guys to start fucking,” Gerard observes, then holds his hands up when Kate glares at him. “What? It’s true. Don’t soulmate triads have all sorts of kinky sex?”   
“How would I know?” Kate demands. “I barely know either of them. And also, like I’d fuck Brendon before Ryan.”

“Why not?” Gerard shrugs. “I don’t see how it matters.”

Kate doesn’t like talking about having sex with Brendon. It makes her feel strange, a mix of desire and nervousness in her stomach. She changes the subject. “Whatever. So, are we going to do some?”

Gerard smirks at her, and nods. She watches him as he de-clumps it, putting his in neat lines across the dashboard. Kate just takes the small bag, and, copying what she saw Gerard do a while ago, uses her finger to gather some of the white substance on her fingertip, and then she inhales it through her nose.

The relief she feels is almost comical. Her head, which she didn’t even know was hurting, stops aching, and her body relaxes. She can feel the stress from the last week seep out of her as the energy, the alertness, sweeps over her.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?”

She smiles Gerard. “Yes.”

He laughs at her and lays out another line. She doesn’t need more, not right now, though she probably will later. Right now, she just absorbs the feeling of relief.

“Does Brendon and Ryan know you do this?” He asks, wiping his nose.

She nods. “They know. I was overdosing when I met them. I don’t think there’s anyway they couldn’t know.”

“No, I mean, do they know you still do it?”

Kate frowns. “No, not really. This is the first time since I met them. Wait, do you think I should be telling them?” Panic spreads through her. Is she messing up? It would be just like her to mess up something that isn’t supposed to be able to be messed up.

“Calm down,” Gerard tells her. “I don’t know, I was just wondering. You barely know them. I don’t see how it’s any of their business. At least, not yet.”

She relaxes again. “Yeah, you’re right. God, I’ve missed this. Let’s never go a week without seeing each other again.”

“You only love me for my drugs.”

“Not true,” she protests. “I love you for you, Gee. You’re like, my best friend.”

“Good,” he says. “You’re mine, too.”

They spend the rest of the afternoon in his car in the parking lot of his house, talking and doing a lot of cocaine. It’s wonderful, and the whole day, Kate feels happily comfortable and safe, better than she’s felt in a long time. 

When Gerard drops her off, he hugs her tightly. “Be careful, Kate. I’m here literally anytime - I never do anything. Just call me if you need to, okay?”   
“Okay,” she agrees, smiling at him. “Thank you.”

“Of course.”

They wave goodbye and Rachel’s presence doesn’t even bother her as much as it did before. Gerard gave her a little bit of cocaine to “use if you need a little break”, and she appreciates it a lot. It takes a lot of willpower not to just do it instantly upon getting home, but she resists, and hides it under her mattress for future use. She falls asleep easily and quickly, and dreams of Brendon.

_ “You’re ethereal,” he says, and it strikes her as strange. Ethereal. Otherworldly. Her? _

_ He kisses her, deep and hard, and his lips taste like Mexican chocolate, and his fingers dig into her hips just a little bit, his mouth rough on her lips, her neck, her shoulders… _

Kate wakes up with a start, her cheeks hot and a little sweaty. She lays there for a second, making sure there is no Brendon in her room and that it was, in fact, just a dream.

She can’t fall asleep after that. Her whole body is aching for something - Brendon? Just someone in general? - and her skin feels flushed and heated, and as much as she thinks about it, she still can’t decide what that meant.

 

The day her father tells her he’s going on some vacation with Rachel, is the day she tells him her soul mate has two soul mates. 

His mouth purses and his eyes get this look Kate can’t even begin to describe – dark, judgmental, something she absolutely hates. “I’m sorry,” he says after a minute of heavy, accusing silence. “You’re obviously the better one, I’m sorry he hasn’t chosen you yet.”

Kate has to close her eyes for a minute as she tries desperately hard to calm down. There’s a lot wrong with that sentence. It isn’t a  _ choice.  _ It isn’t Ryan’s  _ fault.  _ If it was, she wouldn’t come out on top. Brendon is so much better than her, and her father has no idea,  no idea whatsoever what it’s like.

But part that Kate hates, the part that scares her, is the little bit of her that is thinking the same thing. That it is a choice, and that she should come out on top. It’s irrational, she knows, but it’s there, and Kate wants to shove it deep, deep down until it disappears, wants to get rid of it forever.

Her father is saying something about he’s sorry that Kate has to deal with it, and that Ryan isn’t a good person for her, maybe, that there are places that deal with this kind of thing – Kate cringes at the words “deal with” – and that he can call them for her, if she wants.

“No,” she says, standing up. “No, that’s fine. I don’t care if Ryan has two soul mates. I don’t care about that. Ryan and Brendon are meant to be together just as much and Ryan and I.”

Her father just shakes his head and says, “Alright, sweetheart. But if you ever… change your mind, just let me know.”

She clenches her fists and takes a deep breath before nodding. “Okay. Have fun on your vacation.”

He nods and smiles at her and she opens the door to outside, already calling Ryan.

 

“He said that?”

Brendon looks horrified and Ryan just won’t meet her gaze, his long fingers ripping apart pieces of 

a receipt on the table.

“Yeah,” she says, sighing.

Ryan’s shoulders droop even more, which Kate didn’t think was possible, and he won’t look up.

“Ryan,” Brendon says, his voice stern. “Ryan, look at us.”

Ryan sighs again and Brendon grabs his chin and forces him to look at them.

Kate hates seeing Ryan in pain, hates it more than she hates her father and Rachel combined and when Ryan looks up and meets her eyes, she’s shocked at the amount of  _ hurt  _ there.

“M’sorry,” he says quietly. It makes her sad to hear, and his eyes are full of guilt.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for,” Brendon says fiercely, kissing his jaw and his cheek and then his lips. “Absolutely nothing,” he repeats, his words muffled by Ryan’s skin.

Kate rests her head next to his but on his forearm. His skin is cold under her forehead and she can feel his pulse.

“He’s right,” she says after a moment. “He’s right, Ryan. You’re fine as you are and I don’t think you need to choose.” She  _ doesn’t.  _

Ryan lets out a breath. He sits up and Kate switches to leaning her head against his shoulder. She can see his profile, the familiar curve of his nose and his thin lips, the length of his eyelashes.

“I know,” he says after a moment. “You’re right.”

Brendon visibly relaxes, and Kate can’t imagine how much of a issue this must be for Ryan - this guilt over his own uncontrollable situation, especially after Brendon’s family kicked him out. She knows that if she looks at Ryan right now, his eyes would still be filled with guilt, despite his words.

Brendon settles onto Ryan’s other shoulder,  and they sit like that for a while, and Kate can feel Ryan’s heartbeat and hear Brendon’s breathing. She closes her eyes, marvelling in how much better this feels than Jon, than Geordie, than her own house. It’s magical. Ethereal. 

She falls asleep there, and several hours later, is jostled awake when she’s picked up.

“Wha?” She groans.

“Shh,” Brendon shushes. “I’m just moving you to the bed.”

Kate blinks, realizing it’s him that’s carrying her. “You are?”

He snorts. “Like Ryan is strong enough to pick up anything other than twenty-four ounce coffees. Trust me, you’re safer this way.”

His arms are strong under her legs and neck and she lets her head fall back onto the gentle curve between Brendon’s shoulder and neck. His skin smells like cinnamon and something else, something a little muskier. 

A moment later, she’s dropped onto a bed. 

“Ow!” She squeaks, rubbing her eyes. The light coming through the window is grayish, and she stretches, wishing she wasn’t wearing her jeans. “Bren, what time is it?”

“About eleven,” he tells her as he takes off his shirt. Kate very intentionally doesn’t look at him. “You slept for a while. Ryan will be up in a minute, he’s just cleaning up from dinner. Now, scoot over, will you?”

“Oh, sorry,” she quickly rolls over to the middle of the bed, and Brendon grins at her, a bright, warm smile, before getting onto the bed. 

“Oh, wait,” he says after a moment. “Do you want a t-shirt or something? Jeans aren’t very comfortable.”

Kate doesn’t know what to say. Her mouth feels dry, and this moment between them feels too cliche to be true. She wonders if she’s still asleep, and this is another dream.  Brendon poking her arm sharply quickly proves that theory false. 

“Ow,” she snaps for the second time. “Thanks a lot.”

“Sorry,” he shrugs, not looking sorry at all. “Do you want something?” He gets up off the bed.

“I, uh… yeah, sure, I…” Kate hopes he doesn’t wonder why she’s stammering. The answer is that his back is  _ wonderful.  _ There are no marks on his skin, it’s all smooth and tan, and as he leans over his dresser, muscles become more apparent. She has no idea how this happened, how she was lucky enough to get two incredibly attractive soulmates (well, one soulmate and one extra). It’s really not fair to everyone else.

Brendon leaves the room for her to get dressed, and she pulls on the t-shirt as quickly as possible. It falls to about mid-thigh, too short for her to really be comfortable, but it’s better than jeans, she supposes. 

By the time Brendon and Ryan come back, she’s already half asleep again. Hazily, she watches them whisper to each other for a few minutes before they get into bed.

“She claimed the middle, I guess,” Ryan observes, sounding amused.

“Not fair,” she hears Brendon say. “I wanted that part.”

“You can get it another night. Look how tired she is.”

“She’s totally awake,” Brendon protests. “Kate, come on, I know you’re awake.”

Unintentionally, she feels herself smile and she moans, rolling onto her stomach. “I was  _ about  _ to fall asleep, until you guys came in.”

“You’ll sleep better with us here,” Ryan gestures out the window. “It’s cold. Body heat, and all.”

“Ryan Ross, are you saying we should take our clothes off?”

“Shut up, Bren, you’re already half naked.”

Kate giggles into the pillow. “So am I.” She turns around just in time to see Ryan turn pink and glance away from looking at her legs.

“I didn’t notice,” he says quickly, and Brendon snorts loudly, catching Kate’s eye and smirking.

He turns off the light and the room is plunged into darkness, the silver moonlight the only thing making it so she can make out the profiles of Brendon and Ryan.

“Goodnight, guys,” she whispers. 

Ryan’s cold hands sneak across her stomach and latch onto her waist, pulling her closer to him. Brendon follows, pressing his nose into her hair. 

“Goodnight, Kate,” Ryan grumbles, the closeness of his voice making her shiver. “Sweet dreams.”

“‘Night, babes,” Brendon says, before nuzzling her head more. 

Feeling very lucky that she gets to enjoy this for the rest of her life, she closes her eyes and finally falls asleep.

 

 


	8. //announcement//

Hello! ! This is, if you haven't already guessed, not a real chapter but a note. I know how much that sucks, and I usually hate it when an author does this, but I can't think of any other way to let the readers of this story know. 

This story was supposed to be my 2014 nanowrimo. I didn't finish it because one of my best friends died in a car crash last November, and I couldn't find time or the energy to get this done. Since then, I've tried to find time to finish it but haven't been able to.  
Well that time is over! I tried to start a new nanowrimo this year but couldn't get into it, I refounded this novel, and I've decided to finish it. It is definitely one of my favorite works, and I love all of my characters. I hope that there are still people reading this and thank you so much for the great reviews I've gotten. I really really sincerely appreciate them, and that people actually like the characters and plots I come up with. 

ALSO:  
this story is under serious editing, and I have added more than 10k words to what I've already written and will be posting the new & improved chapters as I work on this, so you might want to go back and re-read it when it's done.

I am hopeful that this will be done before the end of November. Thanks for your comments and kudos, and I hope to see all of you again when I post the next chapter ♡♡ :) :)

 

\--jennah


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLO i know i said itd be done by the end of november but literally like, the day i posted that my computer broke. so sorry.  
> ALSO HOLY FUCK I SAW PANIC LIVE AND I MET BRENDON AND GUYS HE WAS A FUCKING ANGEL HE WAS SO SMALL AND SO CUTE, HIS SMILE IS LIKE AUGSKJSHFUSHDKNJ  
> no moment in this life will ever compare to the moment that i was within two feet of him, and he saw me, and i saw his smile. nothing.   
> anyways yeah if you all want to know anymore just hmu im dying to talk about it with the panic fam

When Kate wakes up, there’s blood all over her face.

For a moment, she panics, worrying that she’s back at Jon’s, that everything was a dream, but soon the yellow walls of the bedroom come into focus, and she relaxes, and touches her face.

It’s mostly all dried, and she wrinkles her nose in disgust that it’s been on her face for so long. It’s not hard to deduce that it came from her nose - she gets nosebleeds annoyingly often, and this isn’t the first time it’s happened while she’s sleeping.

Careful not to wake up Brendon, she slips out of Ryan’s empty spot and pads to the bathroom to clean up her face. Her face looks scary covered in scarlet, but it doesn’t take long to wipe it all off, gently avoiding the still aching spots where Jon hurt her. When she’s done, her face is scrubbed pink, and there’s a small pile of bloody tissues on the vanity.

She slides them all into the trash and goes downstairs to find Ryan. Sunlight is pouring through the large windows in the side of the house, and he’s sitting on the couch, drinking coffee and reading a book. He smiles at her when she comes in, and she’s briefly striked by the domesticity of it.

“Good morning,” Ryan nods towards the kitchen. “There’s coffee, if you want. Brendon still asleep?”

“Yes,” she tells him. After she gets coffee, she settles down onto the couch next to him, leaning her back against him.

“How did you sleep?” He asks absentmindedly.

“Okay. I had a nosebleed when I woke up, but it didn’t get on any sheets, or anything.” She ignores the look of concern he shoots her.

“Do you get those often?”

She nods. “Yeah, kinda.”

They both pretend not to know the reason for her nosebleeds, even though it’s hanging over their heads, heavy in the silence.

“Hmm,” Ryan hums after a moment. “There’s tissues in the bathroom.”

The quiet is broken by Brendon shuffling into the living room, still wearing no shirt. He stretches, yawns, and collapses on the couch next to Ryan, burrowing his head into his lap.

Kate watches them, a mix of envy and appreciation. Brendon, who’s eyes are still half-shut, smiles at her sleepily. “Get over here, Kate.”

She edges closer, not sure where she’s supposed to go. Ryan grabs her hand and tugs her down, on top of Brendon. “Oof,” she gasps as she falls onto his naked chest.

She feels Brendon sigh contentedly. “G’morning.”

“Morning, sunshine,” Ryan smiles down at him, his long fingers combing through his hair. “What are you two up to, today?”

“Being here with you,” Brendon mumbles, turning onto his side.

“I might go see Gerard,” she tells them, enjoying the warmth of Brendon’s stomach underneath her cheek.   
“That’s nice,” Ryan says, though she can tell he doesn’t think it’s very nice at all. “And what are you two going to do?”

Kate doesn’t know what to say to that. The hot, well known feeling of shame washes over her as she thinks about what they do, her and Gerard. Snort coke and sit in his car, talking about Ryan and Brendon? Have sex? Her and Gerard haven’t had sex since she met Ryan, and she isn’t sure what she’s supposed to do with that, now.

“Ryan, stop it,” Brendon scolds. “Kate, I like Gerard. He should come over.”

Kate doesn’t miss the stiffening of Ryan’s body, and quickly shakes her head. “Um, that’s okay. Thank you, though.”

A while later, Ryan pushes them off and gets up, stretching. He disappears into the kitchen, leaving them on the couch, Kate still on top of Brendon.

“Don’t worry about Ry,” he tells her. “He just kind of really hates Gerard.”

“I didn’t mean to cause anything bad.”

“I know, I know, just… you should talk to him about it, I think. Maybe I’ll call Mikey today, and see if he wants to hang out, if he’s in town. Leave you and Ryan alone for a little bit.”

She smiles at him gratefully. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” he gets up off the couch. “Don’t mention it.”

Not long after, Brendon leaves, waving goodbye to them through the window before ducking into his car.

The afternoon starts out awkward, and many times she glances at Ryan only to see him glancing away. Conversation is stuttering and hard, and only when Ryan proposes playing Scrabble does it dissipate.

“Oh man,” Kate shakes her head as they set up the game. “Prepare to be conquered. I’m so good at this game.”

“Yeah, right,” Ryan rolls his eyes. “I’m an English major. I bet I know words you couldn’t even _dream_ exist.”

“So, what you’re saying is that you’re a nerd,” she observes as she reaches into the bag and sets up her letters.

“Shut up.”

“Just saying it like it is, Ry.”

He rolls his eyes. “Are we doing nine or seven letters?”  
“Nine, obviously. I only do seven if there’s three people playing.”

Ryan goes first, and Kate can’t help but snort at his first word. _“Sex.”_

“Wow, your’re right, words I couldn’t even dream of,” she says as seriously as she can. Ryan ignores her.

“Whatever, I got points.”

Feeling pretty smug, she spells ‘ _scrabble.’_ “Oh, look, I got points too!”

“Fuck off.”         

She laughs as she writes down her point. “Come at me, mate.”

Kate wins Scrabble with a truly impressive score of 256. Ryan is only at 193, and he gets all sulky after, pouting at her.

“I’m not going to apologize,” she informs him. “I told you I was good at this game.”

“But I didn’t believe you,” Ryan gets more mopey, flopping onto the couch and moaning.

“Your loss,” she shrugs. “Now move, you lump. I want to sit down.”

He curls up into a ball, ignoring her.

“Ryan,” she says. He doesn’t say anything. She pokes him. “Ryan, are you really that bothered that I won?”

He looks at her through his fingers. “No.”

She looks at him, honestly confused. “Then why are you hiding?”  
He lets out a groan and grabs her wrist, pulling her towards him. “I don’t know. Please come here.”

Kate settles down next to him on the couch, enjoying being pressed against him.  She closes her eyes.

“You know Brendon meant to leave us here today, right?”

She nods.

“Why did he do that?”

“Um,” Kate, for a moment, can’t actually remember why. “Oh, because you were freaking out about me and Gerard hanging out.”

“I wasn’t _freaking out,”_ Ryan protests lividly. “God, both of you always think -”

“Okay, okay,” she cuts in. “Fine, you weren’t freaking out. You were a little upset though, and I asked Brendon why and he just said I should ask you - which is actually really annoying, he does that all the time - and then he, you know, left.”

“I don’t hate Gerard,” Ryan sighs, then pauses. She waits patiently for the rest of the explanation. “I just don’t think he’s a good person to really… rely on. Especially for you.”

“Why?”

Ryan shift anxiously. “I don’t know. He, you know, deals coke and all he does is like, party and I just… I don’t know. I don’t want you to get into that scene.”

Kate realizes that he doesn’t know at all what her life was like before, or he knows very little.

“Right,” she agrees vaguely. “The partying life.”

“Yeah,” he says. “Do you still do cocaine?”

“No.”

The lie is out before she even thinks about it, and right after she says it, she almost takes it back. Almost.

“That’s good,” Ryan sighs, obviously relieved. His hands stroke her back, and it’s soothing. His thumbs massage little circles into her skin.

“I’m sorry,” she tells him.

“What for?”

_For lying to you._

“I don’t know. I’m just sorry.”

She doesn’t know why it’s so hard to backtrack, to say “No, sorry, I do still do it,” why her tongue felt so heavy. She doesn’t want to tell him. She’ll stop, she really will, if it makes this guilt go away.

“You know,” Ryan’s lips are in her hair. “Your hair smells so good. Like passionfruit.”

“That’s my shampoo.”

“Mm,” she can feel him smile. “Good choice.”

The silence is broken by Brendon come inside. Though she can’t see him, because Ryan and the couch is in the way, she hears him shiver and sigh loudly. “Hello?”

“Hi,” Ryan says. “We’re on the couch.”

Brendon appears, his skin damp with snow. “Hey, guys. What’d you do today?”

“Kate beat me in Scrabble,” Ryan says immediately, and Brendon laughs.

“Wow, I’m sure he wasn’t much fun to be around after that,” he says to Kate, smiling.

“Nope,” she agrees. “He got pretty mopey.”

“It’s about time your Scrabble monopoly was broken,” Brendon observes, unwinding his scarf and dropping it on the coffee table before sitting in the yellow chair across from them. “You were getting pretty cocky.”

“Yeah, well,” he scowls. “Kate only beat me by a little bit.”

She quickly shakes her head at Brendon while Ryan isn’t looking, and Brendon smirks.

“My poor baby,” he says. “I’m really sorry you were beat by Kate. I’m sure we’ll be able to make it up to you.”

“Fuck off, Bren,” Ryan closes his eyes, leaning back into Kate.

“I picked up Chinese,” Brendon points to a bag he left at the door.

“Good,” Kate quickly jumps up. “I’m starving.”

Brendon follows her to the kitchen, leaving Ryan on the couch to moan about how cold he is.

“Hey,” he says quietly. “Did it go okay today?”

She nods as she finds plates. “Yeah, it did. We talked about Gerard a little. How was Mikey?”

Brendon leans against the counter. “He was good. Gerard was there. He asked about you.”

“Hmm?”

“Yeah, he says hi and that you should text him.”

“Okay,” she nods. “Thanks.”

“No problem. Let’s go feed Mopey the Dwarf, now, huh?”

Kate likes the companionship her and Brendon have cultivated in the last couple of weeks.

 

The very second she sees Dallon Weekes, she knows he’s going to become a problem.

He’s sitting at the window seat in Starbucks and he has a jawline that could cut steel and the brightest blue eyes she’s ever seen. The color of lakes in the sunlight and oceans and rivers, an almost dark blue she could get lost in. His brown hair is ruffled and sticking up and he’s wearing black framed glasses. His eyebrows at scrunched together and his teeth are nibbling on the end of his pencil.

She freezes when she sees him, and the only reason she knows his name is because of the piece of school work on the table that says it in loopy handwriting.

Katie and Patrick run into her and say something about how she can’t just stop in the middle of a crowded place and expect everyone to stop, but Kate can’t hear.

Dallon bites his lip and scrawls something down. She can feel her heart beating so fast it might jump away and there’s a low buzzing in her ears. He’s so _pretty._ Not as pretty as Ryan but still pretty - gorgeous, even.

“Kate,” Katie is poking her back relentlessly and Kate is suddenly aware that people are glaring at her. “Kate, we’re next in line.”

As she stutters through her order, she still can’t take her eyes off the messy hair of Dallon Weekes in the window sill, the sunlight catching on it and making it seem almost gold.

Finally, Patrick, Katie and Kate get a seat that’s a table away from Dallon and next to the window, too. Kate has to shove Patrick out of the seat so she can see him over Katie’s shoulder, and it’s worth it because seeing Dallon write is something she’d pay good money to watch.

“ _What_ are you staring at?” Katie demands, turning around. Between them and his table is a mother with two blonde haired children.

Katie rolls her eyes at Kate and flops back around. “Whatever.”

Patrick peers over the mother and says, “Are you staring at Dallon?”

Kate almost jumps at the sound of his name coming from someone else. “Do you know him?”

“Yeah,” Patrick attempts to eat some of his frappuccino off his straw and gets it all over his face. Katie sighs and wipes it off with a napkin. He sends her a thankful look before continuing. “Yeah, I do. He’s in my music class, I think. He’s a year behind, though, so he’s... eighteen? Seventeen? No, eighteen.”

Kate wants to hear everything Patrick knows about Dallon, but Katie interrupts by saying, “Don’t you already have your soul mate?”

Kate screeches to a halt as she remembers Brendon and Ryan and cinnamon and rain and home and that Dallon is someone else’s, not hers, that _she’s_ someone else’s, and can’t and never will be his. It’s a lot of disappointment to take in in six seconds.

“Oh,” she sighs and she hates to admit that it’s regretfully. “Yeah.”

Katie looks at her weirdly. “Are you okay?”

Kate is so okay, Kate is completely fine. She is. She really is.

Only not really, because it suddenly hits her that it’s taboo to be attracted to someone not your soul mate, it occurs to her that she hated her father and still does, for loving someone that some mystical force didn’t decide on for you, that somewhere, Rachel has a soul mate and maybe he’s dead and maybe she’s left her for someone else but the point is, Rachel and Kate’s father are forever going to be judged. Just like Ryan, for something they can’t control, for love. Just like Ryan.

It takes a while longer to convince Katie and Patrick that she’s okay, and they eventually go with it.

And when they’re done with gettiung coffee, instead of stopping to talk to Dallon, which is what she really wants to do, and instead of calling Brendon and Ryan, she walks to her house, her own house, and hugs her father and spends the rest of the afternoon playing Scrabble with him and Rachel.

(She, of course, completely wrecks both of them).

 

She tells Brendon about Dallon.

“So,” he says, tilting his head. They’re sitting under the weeping willow again, only this time the sun is shining, lighting up the frosted grass. “You like him?”

Kate shakes her head. “No, no. Well, I mean, I’ve never spoken to him. I was attracted to him, and I thought he was really… pretty. But the point is, I’m not supposed to feel that for anyone but Ryan and you, I guess, right?” She’s not quite sure when she started confiding in Brendon, only that she did. He’s surprisingly good at giving advice, and has yet to ever react judgmentally.

Brendon bites his lip. “Well... no, you’re supposed to. Or not supposed to, but it’s normal, I’m sure. Kate, you’re not chained to us. I know that pretty much everyone thinks that you are, but I don’t care if you date this Dallon guy, or fall in love with him. People don’t have to love just one person, or two, or three. People don’t have to love just people whose name they have on their wrist. Love isn’t a finite source. That’s sort of like saying, ‘well, I have one child, but I can’t have another one because that would mean I didn’t love the first.’ That’s not how it works.”

Kate thinks about it for a moment. “I guess that’s true. I don’t want Ryan to think that… that I…”

Brendon smiles at her understandingly. “Ryan won’t think any less of you for liking someone else, Kate.”

“But he’ll be hurt, won’t he?” Her voice is rising in pitch and her mind automatically rejects the idea of Ryan hurting. “He’ll get all possessive and think  I like whoever more or something. Or even worse, he’ll tell me to be with Dallon because Dallon is “normal.””

Brendon sighs and rests his head on her shoulder. She, surprisingly, doesn’t mind. “Ryan Ross is a strange one – “

Kate laughs because god, he really is and that doesn’t even begin to cover it.

“But,” Brendon continues. “You’d need to talk to him about it. I’ve had… side affairs.”

Kate’s eyes widen and she claps a hand over her mouth, laughing. “Brendon Urie! With _who?”_

Brendon shrugs nonchalantly. “You know Pete Wentz? Yeah.  And Mikey Way, when he was back from touring or whatever. Ryan didn’t mind at all – he and Keltie had something for ages.”

“Who’s Keltie?” Kate asks.

He grins. “Keltie is… a little wild and bitchy but pretty nice, I guess. Her and Ryan occasionally had sex and that’s it.”

It’s weird that this doesn’t bother her, Kate thinks. She’s still incredibly possessive of Ryan, when it involves Brendon. But with Keltie, it’s different. Maybe because with Brendon, he’s the only one that could combat the hold Kate had on Ryan, but with Keltie, she knows there’s not another soul Ryan would love as much as he loves Kate and Brendon. It’s a reassuring kind of thought. Or, it would be, if there wasn’t another soulmate.

“But did you have romantic relationships with these people, or was it just sex?”

“I loved Mikey,” Brendon’s laugh is almost bitter. “I loved him so fucking much.”

And Kate is surprised at the amount of emotion in his voice, at the love there.

“Did Ryan know?”

“Yeah,” he sighs and leans forward, resting his head in his hands. The sunlight catches on his hair. “He did. It wasn’t a big deal. In the end, I think, we all know we’ll come home to each other.”

Kate likes that. The words, “ _we’ll come home to each other”_ sound so nice, so permanent. Like no matter how far she strays, no matter how many boys with river blue eyes and how many girls with copper hair she loves or sleeps with, as long as she comes back to them, they’re there.

She takes Brendon’s hand and smiles at him and he smiles back at her, his skin hot around hers.

They spend the rest of the afternoon at the park, and Kate can’t deny that she loves talking to Brendon. Conversation is so easy, so natural, and he laughs at every one of her jokes.

That night, Ryan and Brendon and Kate pile onto the couch in Ryan’s living room, eating out of the pizza box on the coffee table while Ryan reads the titles of movies he got from a garage sale and Brendon looks up reviews for them.

“There’s apparently one scene where a teenage girl gets her skin ripped off,” Brendon says, looking up from his phone.

Kate’s nose wrinkles. “Gross.”

“Agreed,” Ryan nods, throwing the movie into the reject pile. He picks up another one. “This one was made in 1997.” He reads off the title.

Brendon’s eyes narrow. “Fluffy and romantic. Also, this says there’s two - I repeat, _two -_ nude scenes.”

“I like it,” Kate decrees.

“Me, too,” Ryan nods. “I could really use something like that tonight.”

Brendon shrugs. “You know I’m all for romantic comedies.”

Ryan gets up to put it in and Kate snuggles into them both, feeling the warm softness of Brendon’s side and the sharpness of Ryan’s. She loves the contrast.

“So,” Ryan starts as commercials start playing at low volume. “I heard about this Dallon man.”

Kate glares at Brendon, who just looks at her innocently. “God, I told you today! You are worse than an old woman, Urie.”

“Brendon cannot keep a secret from me if it killed him,” Ryan rolls his eyes. “Do you think you could convince Dallon  to have a threeway with us? He sounds hot.”

“Hey, wait, that’s not true. Don’t listen to him, Kate. I haven’t told him any of the secrets you’ve told me.”

“Wow, I’m glad to see _you_ two are bonding,” Ryan huffs. “Nice to know I’m included.”

Kate takes his hand. “Sorry. You’re just always at work when I’m off school.”

Ryan rolls his eyes but squeezes her hand.

“Wait a second,” Brendon’s eyes narrow. “Threeway? Am I not a part of this?”

“Of course not,” scoffs Ryan “Threeways are relatively normal but fourways are weird.”

“It’s true,” Kate nods, resting her head on Ryan’s shoulder. “Dallon would be a little freaked out by that, I think.”

Brendon pouts and rests his chin on Kate’s head. “Whatever. I’ll just have sex with random strangers I guess.”

“Okay,” Ryan and Kate say in unison.

Brendon groans then shuts up because the movie starts, and Ryan laughs under his breath.

Kate smiles to herself and settles in to watch the movie.

 

She sees Dallon again two weeks later, two days before her seventeenth birthday and her heart still goes crazy and that buzzing is in her ears again.

This time, he’s in the bus station, a cranberry colored hat pulled over his head and snowflakes on his glasses. He’s reading a book while waiting for the bus and he sneezes and Kate almost coos, he’s just so cute.

She’s sitting on the cold bus stop bench and they’re the only two people there. She’s kind of hoping he’ll feel an obligation to talk to her, just because they’re the only ones, but he’s lost in his book so she doubts he notices her.

The snow is falling thick and fast around them – she loves snow so much and can remember when Geordie got so excited about it. It feels so long ago and Kate almost laughs at how old she feels. The snow reminds her of cocaine, and recalling that she hasn’t texted Gerard in a little while, she pulls out her phone and sends him a message before taking a deep breath.

“What are you reading?” She speaks before she can think it through, and when Dallon looks up, those blue eyes meeting hers, it’s so completely worth it.

“ _Choke,”_ he says. “By Chuck Palahniuk.”

“I’ve heard of that,” Kate beams, relieved it’s something she actually knows of. “Is it good?”

“Well,” Dallon lowers the book, looking sheepish. “This is actually the ninth time I’ve read it. But yes, it is very good.”

She laughs. “So you like it.”

“A lot,” he grins. “It’s really good writing.”

She smiles at him and the conversation has come to an awkward halt.

“So,” Dallon starts. “Are you in high school?”

“Yeah,” she nods. “Senior. Are you?”

He shakes his head. “Junior. I’m kind of a year behind because I went travelling, so I’m eighteen, but yeah, I’m a junior.”

She nods. “Where did you go travelling?”

“My parents and I lived in Greece for a year. It was gorgeous.”

“God,” she says. “It sounds gorgeous. Away from this constant rainy place.”

“Yeah,” he laughs, glancing at the snow. “Definitely. Though I love snow.”

Kate almost starts bouncing. “I do too! It’s so pretty and it hides everything gross under this layer of pretty white and it sparkles in the sun.”

Dallon smiles at her. “I agree with everything you just said. I love snow so much and it’s so rare when it snows here.”

“I know,” she says. “It’s almost nicer when it happens though, because we can appreciate it more. If it happened all the time, we’d get used to it.”

“That’s true,” he replies. “I guess this keeps us on our toes.”

“Mhm,” she nods. “It really does.”

The bus pulls up and Dallon sighs. “This is me. Is this your bus too?”

It isn’t.

“Yeah,” she says, standing up from the bench. “It is.”

He smiles at her and they step into the warm vehicle, finally out of the cold.

“You can sit by me, if you want,” he says, not meeting her eyes. His cheeks get redder than they already were from being outside.

Kate bites her lip to keep from smiling and sits down next to him, feeling the warmth of his thigh against hers.

They talk the entire bus route and when Dallon smiles at her and gets up, saying “This is my stop,” he looks at Kate questioningly.

“Um,” she blushes. “I actually… this isn’t my bus. I just took the bus to… talk to you?”

Dallon’s answering smile is like the sun and she probably turns bright red. He smiles at her hugely and sits back down. “Well, if you did that for me, I guess I owe you one.”

She grins at him and wants to jump around and giggle and do all those cliché things girls do when the people they like do something sweet.

“English,” he says, his voice getting almost brighter with passion. “Yeah, I’d major in English. Definitely. It’d be so interesting.”

She nods, thinking about what Ryan’s told her about writing. “So you like to write then?”

“Definitely,” he sighs. “Yeah, I love it. It’s the best thing ever, you know?”

She doesn’t really, but nods because she likes to hear him talk about.

They spend the rest of the bus ride just talking, and finally get off exactly where they started.

“So,” Dallon begins, biting the inside of his cheek. “I should probably go home.”

“Yeah, same,” she agrees.

They stand awkwardly for a little while longer before he awkwardly hands her his phone. “Put your number in?”

She nods and enters in her number before taking a deep breath and kissing him on the cheek.

He blushes and she smirks slightly before turning around and taking her phone out to call Ryan.

 

“Wow,” Brendon shakes his head, grinning. “What is this, a romantic comedy?”

Kate hits him with a pillow. “Shut up. It was cute.”

“I know!” He exclaims. “That’s my point. It’s _too_ cute.”

“I think it’s just cute enough,” Ryan says from his spot in the arm chair. “I mean, god knows Keltie and I didn’t have a romantic comedy esque thing.”

“Yeah, it was pretty gross,” Brendon rolls his eyes.

“I still haven’t met her,” Kate muses.

“You’ll hate her,” Brendon and Ryan say in unison.

“Really,” Ryan says. “She’s an insufferable bitch with a superiority complex.”

“Reminds me of someone,” Brendon eyes Ryan, who glares at him. “She’s a female Ryan only worse because girls are bitchy.”

Kate makes a face and Brendon laughs. “Exactly how I feel about it.”

Ryan sighs. “She’s not that bad. Not nearly as bad as Mikey Way.”

“Shut up, oh my god,” Brendon sits up more, causing Kate’s head to fall more into his chest. “No. Shut up right now, Ross. Mikey is not even _close_ to Keltie.”

“He is literally every stereotype of a pompous emo rock star,” Ryan says disgustedly. “With a love for materialistic things and fucking everything he can touch. Not to mention his sibling. Ugh, Gerard Way.”

Kate wonders if he knows the extent of her and Gerard’s relationship. She doesn’t think so. As far as she knows, he only knows about the drugs.

“Mikey beat Ryan at singing once,” Brendon tells Kate.

“That’s _not_ why I hate him!” Ryan exclaims, looking frustrated. “He’s just a jerk.”

“You know who I hate,” Kate begins. “Keltie.”

Brendon laughs and Ryan just sighs loudly and makes a point of lifting up his book to hide his face.

“You know,” Brendon says to her. “Dallon is just probably better than all of our conquests.”

“The youngest one, too,” she adds. “Of my conquests, that is.”

“Older men, huh,” he nudges her, grinning. “But yeah, we need to meet him sometime. He sounds dreamy.”

Kate laughs and snuggles into him a little bit more. Brendon is so much easier to snuggle with than Ryan, due to the lack of excessively pointy hip bones and the way he always wraps his arm around her and rubs her shoulder softly, comfortingly. It’s lovely, actually, and she likes that slowly, Brendon is becoming easier to be around, easier to like. The way he smells like cinnamon, a scent Kate has come to relate to home, doesn’t hurt.

Of course, Ryan is good at cuddling too – he kind of cradles her entire body, wrapped around her almost. He has a talent at covering her almost completely, and he makes her feel protected.

The two of them, she knows, are the perfect mix, the best recipe. They all fit together like puzzle pieces, and it becomes more apparent the more time they spend together.

They’ve spent many nights in the yellow house, the snow falling around them and Christmas is fast approaching. Kate has made up with her father a lot more than before and spending Christmas at home sounds more appealing than it did two months ago. Of course, she’d rather be with Ryan and Brendon on Christmas than at her house but she’ll be okay with it now. She won’t hate it so much.

On Christmas day, she wakes up and Rachel and her father are sitting on the couch drinking coffee and there’s actually presents underneath the tree and it’s almost happy, and they don’t talk about how it’s been a year since her mother was found lying on the kitchen floor and they don’t talk about how Rachel is sitting where she sat every other Christmas Kate can remember and it’s only a little awkward, actually. Maybe you shouldn’t spend your whole life remembering, anyways.

After they open presents (she actually got something for Rachel, just a necklace but it’s something) and they eat breakfast and her dad asks if she has any plans for today.

She nods, knowing Brendon and Ryan are waiting for her at the yellow house and she smiles to herself.

“Going off to see Ryan?” Her father asks, smiling at her. She’s thankful he doesn’t mention anything about the two soul mates.

“Yeah,” she nods. Rachel smiles at them both and she waves goodbye to them before heading down the street and dialing Ryan’s familiar number.

They pick her up within five minutes and the car smells weird.

“Okay,” she says. “What did you do?”

Brendon points to the little tree hanging on the mirror. “Ryan’s fault.”

She narrows her eyes at the little tree and the words on it that say “black ice.”

“I didn’t think black ice was a scent till now,” Brendon sighs.

“I didn’t want my car to smell bad,” Ryan protests, sounding annoyed. “I don’t know why you guys are making such a big deal about it.”

“It smelled fine before,” Kate says. “Now it just smells weird.”

“It’ll probably cling to our clothes,” Brendon wrinkles his nose. “I got cologne for a reason.”

Ryan makes a noise that Kate assumes is one of frustration. “You guys are absolutely tasteless. Why do you always gang up on me?”

They laugh and Kate leans back in the seat, watching the snow covered streets go by and smiling to herself.

At the yellow house, there’s a Christmas tree and it’s so pretty and Kate almost cries at how pretty it is.

“You like it?” Ryan asks softly, smiling at her. She nods and he loops their arms together, leading the way into the kitchen.

“I cooked,” Brendon announces, spinning around to face them again. “I cooked a lot. It’s good, I think. I made a roast thing and mashed potatoes and there’s peas and gravy and –“

“Brendon made dinner,” Ryan interrupts. “It’s actually eatable.”

Kate laughs and sits down at the table. “Whoa, you’re using the nice plates?” In the months she’s spent here, she had yet to see the nice plates emerge from the cupboard.

“It’s _Christmas,”_ Brendon says, sounding scandalized. “Of course we did.”

“I know, I’m surprised we had that amount of classiness too,” Ryan mutters.

Brendon throws a potholder at him and Kate laughs and they sit down together, chairs squished onto one side so they’re close to each other. She can feel the warmth of Ryan’s knee against hers and the heat of Brendon’s arm, casually draped around the back of her chair.

“This is actually good,” Kate says, surprised.

“I know,” Ryan agrees. “I think we should make Brendon cook for us every night.”

“Agreed,” Kate nods.

“Hey, I get a part in this decision,” Brendon protests but he’s smiling.

They spend the rest of Christmas day together and Brendon attempts to teach them how to make gingerbread. In the end, all of his gingerbread are perfectly iced, of course, complete with little bow ties and buttons. Ryan’s all have good hair, but their pants get increasingly messy with each cookie he frosts and Kate’s - well, Kate’s are just sort of… bad.

“Kate, you know we love you, but…” Brendon looks pointedly between hers and his. “They look…”

Kate heaps frosting onto her last cookie, disregarding how bad it looks. “Whatever. I don’t care, I just want lots of frosting on mine.”

“Nice,” Brendon snorts, dabbing the eyes on one of his. His voice trails off, his eyes narrowing at her gingermen. “I honestly can’t tell if that’s his head or his dick.”

“Fuck off,” Kate scowls, fighting a smile.

Ryan looks down at his messy pants sadly. “I want to eat one of Brendon’s.”

Brendon ignores them, finishing a button on a stylishly dressed gingerwoman. His tongue is sticking out a little bit in concentration.

Ryan smiles at his ducked head, then turns to Kate. “I don’t think we ever stood a chance.”

“‘Fraid so,” she shakes her head. “What do we do now?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know.”

“Shut up,” Brendon growls. “I’m not finished yet, because I put _time_ and _effort_ into my work. Leave me alone so I can finish this.”

Ryan holds his hands up in a ‘surrender’ gesture. “So much warmth on Christmas day,” he mutters. Kate laughs as they leave the kitchen and close the door behind them, leaving Brendon to his work.

Ryan suggests they go outside, and so they bundle up in coats and scarves and walk outside. It’s snowing a little bit, and Ryan interlaces their fingers as they walk.

“How was your dad?” He asks lightly, casually.

Kate shrugs. “He was good. I got Rachel a necklace.” She ignores the look of delight on Ryan’s face and keeps her eyes on the ground. She hasn’t told them about her decision to embrace her father’s relationship, hadn’t been ready to share that with the world yet.

It occurs to her that Ryan could have seen her unforgiveness towards her father as a general dislike of off-kilter relationships, and a general dislike of him. One look at his face confirms this thought, and she shakes her head at him, simultaneously amused and saddened by the boy in front of her. The amount of rejection he expected from her and Brendon both made her heart break. She couldn’t bare to think about why this was, didn’t want to think about how Ryan’s childhood must have been for him to hate himself to this degree.

“That’s good,” he struggles to say.  
“You,” she lets go of his hand and interlocks their arms instead. “Are the most ridiculous person I’ve ever met.”

Despite his feigned look of confusion, she knows he knows what she’s talking about. “Ryan, I’m not going to leave you. I like you, and I like Brendon, and I’m even starting to like our relationship, all three of us. I can’t even consider that. I’m sure you know that my life wasn’t so great before you.”

Ryan looks down, kicking at the snow. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” she snaps, regretting her sharp words when Ryan looks hurt. “Sorry,” she says, more softly. “I don’t like seeing you this way, Ry.”

Without realizing it, they’ve stopped walking, and Kate meets Ryan’s achingly dark brown eyes. They’re bright like pennies, and he doesn’t break her gaze. His eyes - they’re so _pretty._ Dark brown, with flecks of gold floating around, and bits of blue, too. It’s not just the colors that take her breath away, though - the emotion in them is startlingly intense.

“You have wonderful eyes,” Ryan says softly, quietly, and though his voice should break the spell, it doesn’t. It’s moments like these where this magic - this undeniable, strong, soul mate bond between is almost tangible. There’s something powerful between them in this moment, and it’s breathtakingly strong and heady. She knows, without a doubt, despite barely knowing anything about him, that he’s who she wants to spend her life with - no, _needs_ to spend her life with. There’s no question about it.

When Ryan kisses her, there’s something different in it from the times before. This time, they’re both sure. There is no uncertainty on his part, no doubt - just the softness of his lips against hers, the heat as his arm wraps around her back and presses her closer to him. He kisses her hard, and in the cold air, the warmth of his flushed skin against hers feels like fire.

When they break apart, they’re both gasping for breath, and Kate loves the blush decorating the pale skin of his cheeks and his collarbones, and loves knowing it’s her that put it there.   
They spend the rest of their walk in silence, hands locked, as close as they can be to each other and still walk, and the taste of his lips lingers on hers long after they go back inside.

 

“Hello?”

Gerard’s voice over the phone line makes her want to cry and smile at the same time.

“Gerard?”

There’s a shuffle and a muttered “ _fuck”_ and then his voice again, clearer this time. “Kate?”

“Yeah,” she smiles into her phone. “It’s me.”

“Fucking _hell,”_ he swears. “Thank God you called. I fucking hate Christmas.”

“I know,” she says. “That’s why I called.”

He sighs, and it crackles over the receiver. “I’m glad you remembered.” He pauses for a second, and she can hear him breathing. “Do you want to hang out?”

Kate pretends not to notice the fear in his voice, and quickly says, “Yeah, of course, Gee. I’d love to.”

They make plans and when she hangs up, she almost falls over by the aching of her body.

“Fuck,” she swears softly, collapsing in the squashy yellow chair in Brendon and Ryan’s living room. There are times when it really hits her, and her whole head - no, her whole body - is craving something.

God. She wants it. Coke, that is. She wants it now, and badly, and it’s actually physically hurting her.

She gets up, trying not to think about it. Brendon and Ryan wouldn’t like her doing it on Christmas - they wouldn’t like her doing it general, actually. She winces at that thought, because she still hadn’t told them the truth about it. They still thought she hadn’t done it since she overdosed.

“Babe?” Brendon pokes his head in from the kitchen, his dark hair sticking up all over the place, and flecks of flour clinging to it. “What’s up? I heard you talking.”  
Trying to ignore the way her heart speeds up the tiniest bit at the nickname, she bites her lip. “Brendon, can I talk to you for a second?”

He nods and she hears him say something to Ryan before coming out and squeezing onto the chair next to her. She feels better with him pressed against her, his warmth seeping into her skin. She hadn’t even known she was cold. Even though part of her wants Ryan to be the one next to her right now, a bigger part feels safer with Brendon. Despite the circumstances, they’ve developed a companionship that seems to get only stronger the longer it lasts. Brendon doesn’t have the hold over her that Ryan does - if he leaves her, her world won’t be so upside down.

“What’s wrong?” He asks her quietly, meeting her eyes.

Kate twists her hands, unsure of what to say. “I… do you think that, um, drugs are, like… bad?”

He doesn’t say anything for a moment and she closes her eyes, expecting the worst. She knows they’ve talked about it before, but that was with the idea that she had stopped doing it. 

“Hmmm,” Brendon hums. “I think some are, because of the damage they cause. Like, meth and heroine and cocaine and stuff. But, if this is about you doing cocaine, I don’t think you should feel ashamed of it.” Against her will, he cups her chin and forces her to look up. “Why do you ask?”

The doorbell rings and Kate quickly gets up. “Oh, Gerard’s here,” she says hastily, using his arrival as an excuse. She thought it’d be a good idea, but it really wasn’t. She isn’t ready to tell anyone but Gerard about it. 

Brendon watches her silently as she puts on her shoes, his eyes dark. Finally, as she’s opening the door, he says to her, his voice low, “Kate? Please be careful out there. We’re waiting for you to come home.”

Kate shuts the door and feels the cold air clear her head a little bit.  _ We’re waiting for you to come home.  _ What did that mean? She doesn’t like the way the words made her feel - guilty, rushed, stressed.

“Hey,” Gerard grins. His cheeks are bright red from the cold and he’s wearing a green beanie, appropriately Christmas-y against his scarlet hair. He interlocks their arms as they walk to the car. “How was Christmas for you?”

“It was great,” she tells him, wincing as snow gets in her shoe. “Brendon cooked dinner. We made gingerbread. Ryan and I went for a walk. What about you?”

Gerard smiles at her, and she’s surprised by how cheerful he is. “Actually, I hung out with Mikey and his band a little bit. Materialistic assholes, all of them, but they’re all  _ really  _ funny.”

Kate remembers how Mikey told her that Frank, a member of his band, was Gerard’s soul mate but he was too scared to admit it. “Was the whole band there?” She asks casually.

Gerard doesn’t notice her subtle questioning. “Yeah, all of them. Frank was  _ hilarious.  _ You’d love him, Kate.”

“I’ll have to meet him sometime,” she agrees, and the tone in Gerard’s voice makes her smile. “So what do you want to do?”   
“Well,” he adopts a nervous air, glancing at her quickly before facing the road again. “D’you maybe want to come back to my place? It’s just, they were going to watch Star Wars… and you really would like them…” He trails off.

“Yeah,” she tells him softly. Gerard is looking dreamy, and it makes her want to laugh. “I’d love to.”

“Great,” he beams and steps on the accelerator. The car ride to his house is quiet and peaceful, broken only by his swear words as he shoots around each turn way too fast. It doesn’t make Kate nervous - she feels sure that he wouldn’t go fast if he didn’t think it was safe.

They pull up at the familiar big, white house that she came to for dinner not that long ago, and before going inside, Gerard distracts them by starting a snowball fight so they get inside a good half an hour after arriving, wet and happy. Kate stands on her tiptoes to brush snow off his red hair, and their eyes lock, damp and flushed. She can feel his gaze down to her toes, strangely electrifying and addictive. His eyes darken, his hands stop unbuttoning his jacket and come to rest on the curve of her neck. His cold fingers make her shiver. 

“Kate,” he begins, his voice low. “I…” he trails off, his eyebrows furrowing. “Oh, fuck it,” he sighs, and kisses her.

It’s been weeks since they’ve kissed, but she melts back into it as easily as getting back onto a bike. It feels natural and easy. His lips are cold and sweet and she can barely reach up to wrap her arms around his neck, he’s so tall.

The door opens suddenly and they break apart quickly, jumping back as Mikey freezes, his gaze taking in the redness of their cheeks, Gerard’s swollen lips. 

“Oh,” he stammers, backing out. He turns bright red. “Sorry, I just, um, saw that Gee was back and I… yeah. Sorry.” With that, he backs out of the hall and closes the door loudly behind him.

“Huh,” Gerard says brightly, turning back to face her. He’s absolutely glowing now, and it makes her feel a combination of guilt and pleasure that she made him that happy. “That was awkward.”

“A little bit,” she laughs, but honestly, she doesn’t think anything could lower her mood right now. Kissing Gerard felt too good for that. She feels like she’s home, after months of being away. 

As they walk into the living room, he keeps glancing at her then quickly looking away, turning pink. 

The first thing she notices when she arrives in the room that Mikey’s band are hanging out in is that they’re all intimidating looking, except for Mikey himself. The second thing is that one of them, a slightly shorter man with dark hair, is glaring at her, his dark eyes filled with something very akin to hate.


End file.
